Every Villain can be a Hero
by Mstudify
Summary: He was finally free of HYDRA's claws. Why, then, did he feel so trapped? Beaten, alone, and haunted, one former assassin seizes a link to his shattered past and returns to world's next great battleground: Shinto Teito.
1. Chapter 1

It started with the whispers. In every intelligence agency across the world, trickles of information started to come in. At first nothing came of it, the intelligence business was a very active one after all, in which hundreds of such whispers circulated around every day. What was one more pound to the elephant?

But soon those whispers began to grow louder. Outside experts were consulted to analyze strange radio waves originating in the Pacific. Seismologist noted a new land mass that formed in the wake of a recent earthquake. It was clear something had happened, but when you run multi-billion-dollar spy rings, a new island is not terribly important or impressive. Best to leave those situations to the local government and focus resources elsewhere.

So, for a time, no action was taken. All the data was simply thrown in one of hundreds manila folders and tucked away quietly in the depths of the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Logistics Division. Nobody took note when three brilliant college students claimed the island as their own, they had filed the proper paperwork to do so. On the same note, it wasn't particularly surprising that they moved vast amounts of construction material to their new private island, who wouldn't want to build a mansion on it?

What really set the governments the world on high alert was the patents. One does not simply make a major medical breakthrough overnight. You need funding, usually in the million dollar range, and you needed time, about a decade's worth for most drugs.

So when Mid Bio Informatics open its doors on a Tuesday and released a cure for liver cancer that's very same Thursday, people started to get curious. The curiosity didn't stop when even more revolutionary discoveries were released that same year, discoveries that made those three brilliant college students very, very wealthy.

How, asked the spy, where they doing this? They had no investors, no property besides an island, and had a mere three people on their payroll.

That's were things got interesting.

Three agents were dispatched from the Triskelion. They were all the top of their field, veterans of the crafts they had decided to pursue in this life. Some would call them spies but each would view that as an insult. They were artists, with information as a canvas and skill as the paint.

The first was an infiltrator. A buxom brunette, she had trained her mind and body for countless hours in the simulators. Able to break through any security system and fight any opponent through sheer martial skill alone, it was said she can make a ninja weep with envy. She decided on the direct approach, breaking into MBI Tokyo based headquarters with a flair.

She was found in the harbor two days later.

The second was a hacker. He was once a child prodigy, reckless and opportunistic. Yet the military had tempered that passion and redirected it. He had hacked into governmental databases the world over and provided SHIELD with countless state secrets. He thought hacking into one of MBIs satellites would be the first step in the complete unraveling of the rapidly growing mega corporation.

He found a skill that match and surpassed past his own. Angry, defeated and humiliated, he booked an airline ticket home to report his failure.

He never boarded the plane.

The last agent was simply that, the last. She was nice but dull. Polite but unmemorable. Attractive yet plain. If you were to see her in a crowd, you would find her the agreeable sort then forget her as soon as she left your line of sight. Exactly a SHIELD intended.

Her approach was simple. She took a job as a maid at one of the local hotels the founders of the company were known to frequent, and waited. For three long months, nothing happened.

On the last day of the fourth month, she walked into her superior's office in Washington and turned over a three things.

The first was a picture of a woman with purple hair. Strapped to the hip of her slender, yet shapely, body was a sword of unknown make. She was smiling peacefully in the presence of MBIs top researcher, Takehito Asama, as they ate an extravagant meal at the hotel restaurant. Despite running her picture through every database on Earth, her origins remained unknown.

The second item was a bloody knife. Testing revealed it to be the same weapon that killed the infiltrator months earlier. It had been kept as a trophy and placed upon what could only have been described as a shrine, hidden behind a panel the SHIELD agent found. It was unknown who the shrine belong to or what its purpose was, but the agent claimed she had seen a gray eyed women frequent the room, although she had no other evidence to forward.

The last and most damning piece of evidence was a small vial. Inside it was three purple hairs that had been painstakingly collected from the bed of the hotel. SHIELD sent the offending article through their sensors four times before they were satisfied with the results. And what results they were.

She wasn't human. She looked human, she acted human, but her DNA was something else. Attempts to try to extrapolate her origins prove fruitless as the hairs broke down to dust under strenuous testing but the damage was done.

The Spy knew MBI had a secret and it was his job to figure it out.

STRIKE commandos were deployed, resources gathered and the full might of the world's intelligence apparatus was brought to bear.

In their defense, MBI was good, really good. But how long can one company last against the weight of the world? Not forever, that was certain.

Several shaky videos, a complete and total satellite scan of the island, and another DNA sample, this time in the form of skin cells, provided the answer Nick Fury had sought.

Aliens. Honest to god aliens had landed on the planet. He had no way of knowing this would not be the only alien race he would have the pleasure of interacting with but, for the present, his path was clear.

He suggested to the World Security Council the path of caution. So far, the creatures had not attempted to overtake the world's government nor cause chaos and madness. They just seemed to want to live and let live. Nick Fury was more than happy to abide, as long as he was able to keep a close watch on them, of course.

His proposal never stood a chance. Whatever SHIELD knew, HYDRA knew. And HYDRA wanted that technology.

So the remnants of the Red Skull's followers did what they did best. They infiltrated, they manipulated, they bribed and they killed until eventually there was only one consenting opinion among the governments of the world. The governments of the world would have the alien's technology and they would have it now.

And so a task force was approved. Drawing from the military might of dozens of Nations, ranging from the greatest the superpowers to the smallest of city-states, a fleet was set out to sea. In every way it was one of the finest armies humanity has ever assembled. They had the best weapons, the best tactics, and the best men to operate them.

So it was only natural that he was with them. Most didn't believe he existed, that his many deeds were merely legends. Legends bearing the name of Ice Warrior, Shield Breaker and the Red Son.

He didn't remember his name, not yet anyway. But he did know his cryptonym and he did know his mission.

His mission was to capture one of the creatures, alive. And he would do it under the name Зимний Солдат or, as he was more commonly known, The Winter Soldier.

 **XxX**

On a helicopter miles above the Pacific Ocean, a man shivered slightly, despite the sun beating down on him through the cockpit. He gripped the controls of the flying machine tightly, an action that usually gave him great comfort, but today he found none.

He was the best pilot in the fleet, at least in his mind. Every pilot thinks they're the best pilot, and he was no different, but unlike most he had the history to back it up. He had served in the world's hottest warzones: Korea, Afghanistan, even Honduras with a steady hand and an unshakable will. He had shuttled thousands of people in his crafts, from soldiers to civilians to murderers to tyrants and he had done it well.

But none of those assignments bothered him as much as the lone man who sat next to him now.

He looked more like a barbarian than a soldier. Long brown hair that hide his face twisted slightly in the air currents that the rotors created. What is hair didn't covered the mask did, the dark goggles giving him the appearance of a vengeful God about to smite a blasphemer.

The dark body armor only serve to enhance this image. The pilot briefly considered it might be intentional, the first step in psychological warfare. He discarded the idea immediately however, when he saw the flash of silver that was the man's arm. The soldier had wrapped it in fabric, no doubt to hide the glint from a target.

' _Assassin then_ ,' the pilot thought. ' _He wishes to remain unseen_.'

By themselves, none of those descriptions would have unnerved the pilot. He had shuttled assassins before, after all. But what truly unnerved him was his aura.

He could feel it. It surrounded him, filling his beloved bird with feelings of hopelessness and fear. He knew, in some distant corner of his mind that he was in no danger but that provided no comfort. The murderous intent simply leaked out and shook him to the bone. The pilot slammed his eyes forward, hoping the man haven't seen him observing. This was a man who could kill without mercy, destroy without cause. He felt the primal, animalistic instinct grow within him to flee, to hide.

But he resisted. He had a mission to complete, as did the man next to him.

Below them, thousands of ships turned the water as they sped toward shore. Each carried men and soldiers with their own tasks and goals, all of which related to giving HYDRA this island.

High above those ships, the air around them was full with the whirl of helicopters and the scream of jet engines. Some carried men of their own, but most just carried bombs and bullets to wash away whatever resistance faced HYDRAs forces.

They were in for a surprise. Shrill beeping was all the warning most got before anti air missiles released from the island below slammed into the first wave. Some pilots panicked, breaking ranks in a desperate attempt to dodge, but it was no use. The debris from the broken war machines fell to the sea below, sending up great splashes of water in their wake.

The jet aircraft above turned downward, heading to destroy the SAM sites before they could release any more of their hated payload. They were met with cannon fire from several unmarked aircraft, which appeared to be unmanned in nature.

"Pilot," The voice, rough from disuse, broke the pilot's stunned observations. Slowly, he turned to look at his only passenger. "взять нас ниже. Земля, на этой вершине холма."

Translating the Russian quickly to English, the pilot nodded before rapidly decreasing altitude. Soon they were skimming mere meters above the water, hoping to avoid the missiles that took their comrades lives.

Surprisingly, the Navy was having a much easier time than the Air Force. The Marines had landed on the beach in good order, suffering no casualties and it set up a perimeter brilliantly. Several tanks disembark from the landing craft, before they begin cutting inland through the palm trees.

The soldier paid them no heed, already removing the restraints and heading to the rear of the helicopter. Grabbing his Soviet made Dragunov sniper rifle, he leapt out of the chopper before it even hit the ground.

Rolling to diffuse the tension on his legs, even though a fall from this height wouldn't harm his cybernetically enhance body anyway, the sniper brought the weapon to his eye, scanning the surroundings quickly.

Seeing as he as alone, he moved quickly the higher ground as he reviewed all the information he had gathered on his target.

There wasn't much, and he didn't ask questions, but he knew enough. His targets was the invisible fist of MBI, a private security brigade that wasn't human and was confirmed to be on the island. Eventually, these forces would confront the encroaching HYDRA invaders and when they did, he would move.

Setting his weapon on a rocky overlook, the Winter Soldier went prone, staring down his rifle scope at the lead elements of the invading army. It was a waiting game now.

The Winter Soldier didn't get bored, he was perfectly capable of sitting in the same position for days waiting for a target, but that was unnecessary.

With a flick of his ring finger, he accessed the radio frequencies of the ground troops, listening to the buzz.

Turning the sound to a minimum, he remain cautious. Already, the missile sites and unmanned aircraft that had slaughtered the Air Force showed just how ignorant the invading forces were to their enemy. Intel had suggested nothing of the sort was present and that was a bad sign. If intelligence could miss a whole anti-aircraft battery, it was possible that they missed much worse.

Deep in the corner of his mind, the experiences of Bucky Barnes oozed out. Unlike the Winter Soldier, Barnes had functioned as more than just a killing machine. He had led men instead of merely killed them and thus knew something was wrong. Why would the enemy provide such a strong anti-air front but allow the ground troops to land unmolested?

The radio crackle to life with a hiss. The lead element of the advancing army radioing in quickly. "Sir, I have visual."

"What's wrong?"

"There's a person, sir. A woman just standing there!"

"It's likely a part of the island security detail," The voice replied in an annoyed tone. "Killer her and continue."

The Soldier look towards the source of the radio signal, trying to get a visual. His eyes narrowed as he saw what appeared to be flower petals floating through the air. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, the wind changed so that it was comparable to a hurricane. The formally peaceful flower petals became instruments of death. They slashed through the approaching squad like paper, leaving a trail of gore and blood in its wake. Heedless of destruction, the wind continued right into one of the tanks, flipping it upside down. With a burst of flame it exploded.

' _Strong, analogue of Mutant, Beta level, likely higher._ '

Watching impassively, the Winter Soldier observed a purple clad woman walking through death she had caused, already having selected a nearby helicopter as her next target. It fell before her might.

Breaking from his over watch, the soldier turn and slip deeper into the forest. His opponents weren't human and were thus completely unpredictable, which meant he couldn't wait. He needed to get to the enemy's position and confront them before they destroyed all available escape routes off the island.

Trading his sniper rifle for one of his sub machine guns, he began a light jog, dutifully ignoring the pained cries from below him. He had his mission and they had theirs, which was truly all that mattered.

 **XxX**

Something was wrong.

Matsu's eyes narrowed dangerously, and his hand drifted down to the sword tucked in a sheath on his waist. He took a deep breath and called upon the power all Sekirei were born with.

He had been tasked with destroying all the enemies' armored vehicles, which had proven almost laughably easy. All it took was one soft touch of his sword to the dry earth and an earthquake swallowed his foes. Elsewhere, he could tell his sisters were having even less trouble than he, cutting down the advancing forces like wheat in a field.

Soon, the tanks and armored cars ceased to challenge him, seeking to hide in the dense jungle that covered the eastern part of the island. Moving quickly, number two had provided the exact location of his foes which was radioed to him dutifully. It didn't take long for those stragglers to fall as well.

But as he turned towards the buried ship upon which he was born, he felt something. There was someone moving in the tree line. They were silent, invisible to the naked eye and likely electronic sensors as well. Even the psychic link that his race used to identify potential mates was fooled. But dirt didn't lie. Every step the opponent took caused the ground to shift slightly and that told the swordsman all he needed to know.

"Human!" He shouted into the forest, his voice clear and bold. "There is no use in hiding! I apologize, but you cannot leave this island alive."

And he truly was sorry. He was ruthless and precise with his butchering of the invaders. But that doesn't mean he couldn't pity them.

It's a shame he wasn't really fighting a human. Machines don't act like humans do.

Mutsu's eyes widened as a grenade launched out of the brush three meters right of where he thought his opponent was. Acted quickly, he raised a wall of earth to protect himself, allowing the grenade to explode against it harmlessly. Struggling against the urge to cough, he opened his eyes to see the barrel of a gun point straight at his face, the trigger already partially depressed.

With reflexes humans simply could hope to approach, the swordsman leaped back, pulling his sword out of its scabbard with a dull shinck.

His movements like lightning, he begin batting away the incoming bullets, before slowly advancing against the onslaught. In his mind the battle was already over, the man would run out of ammo and he would skewer him on his sword.

A tell-tale click told him it was time. With a single powerful stride, he was slicing through the dust that hide the humans form.

He was surprised to meet nothing but air.

Looking around widely, he was forced once again to bring his sword up to a defensive position, another round of bullets striking his sword. These were different from the soft rounds that the last weapon used, requiring him to deflect the bullets away due to their higher caliber instead of merely stopping them.

"Enough!" He shouted, bring his sword down quickly. Earth before him cracked, sending razor sharp rocks into the air as they raced towards his opponent. For a moment the exchanged stopped, the dust cloud dissipating. Only to reveal Mutsu standing in the clearing alone, surrounded by spent cartridges.

Wearily, the Sekirei spun around, looking for an adversary. He didn't like the fact that he was alone. He stretched out his senses, searching for something, anything. Silence was all that greeted him.

Slowly, carefully, Mutsu began backing up. He didn't like this, not at all. Humans don't fight Sekirei on equal terms, then disappear without a scratch on them. He was dealing with something unique.

Touching his hand to his ear, he spoke lowly. "Matsu, warn the others." He took a breath before speaking, fully realizing the impossibly of his next statement. "We're dealing with something different. Something that can fight us on equal terms."

For a second, only silence great him. Then a shocked voice spoke. "Understood, Mutsu-kun. Karasuba is on route."

 **XxX**

"I said warn the others Mutsu," His query below sighed. "Not cause a genocide."

' _Geokinetic. Speed B, Weapon +B. Handle with caution_.'

He needed to move quickly then. There was at least four of these things running around the island, as well as whoever was running the other side of that com link, and one was capable fighting him to a standstill. Chances were he could survive a direct encounter but not at combat strength needed to complete his mission.

With movements like a spider he shifted above his prey. He didn't know how he knew it, but the feeling in his bones told him that Geokinetics were usually so focused on the ground they rarely looked up. Perhaps one of his previous missions had dealt with mutants? His memories of his past remained elusive and irrelevant.

Hefting the weapon in his hands, he settled it on a tree branch to help study it. Even with a cybernetic arm, a grenade launcher had a lot of kick.

Exhaling slowly, he let his fingers gracefully pull the trigger. Then again and again until six warheads were screaming downwards towards the target.

Discarding the launcher even before the first grenade had exploded, he leaped down from his perch, suspecting that even that much firepower won't be enough.

He was pleasantly surprised to find his query face down on the ground, seemingly unconscious. Around him were six perfectly formed craters, each exactly ten feet away from the targets form. Barnes would have said it was a fine bit of shooting, Winter had no time for such trivialities. Regardless, he approached with his weapons bared, taking the time to observe the alien.

He was tall, sporting pale hair that had several specs of blood on it. His black fingerless gloves still clutched his sword, even though he apparently hadn't had time to remove it from the sheath before the explosions struck. The most distinctive thing was his orange scarf, which rose and fell as his subject breathed softly, seemingly unconscious.

Moving quickly, the man formerly known as Bucky Barnes discarded his weapon before shoved his hands into one of the many pouches lining his vest. Allowing his fingers to graze over four syringes, the contents of which he would use only as a last resort, he found a set of reinforced cable ties and produced them.

In the brief moment that his hands didn't hold a weapon, the fully conscious Sekirei acted. Digging the tip of his sword into the dirt, he shouted. "Smashing Point!"

There was no time to dodge, no way to run. The Earth itself moan and trembled as it was compelled to rise, rippling outward from the Sekirei sword point in a tidal wave of devastation. Trees were torn asunder and stone rose into the air before converging on their target. Behind the mask, the man's eyes narrowed as he calculated the best course of action. With no time left to act, he simply dug his boots into the ground and bent his knees. Then he was buried from sight as the very Earth swallowed him whole.

 **XxX**

Mutsu rose, brushing the dust off his coat as he looked towards the devastation he had wrought. He found himself almost sad, mournful. That creature was truly something else, something special and unique. But he dismissed those thoughts quickly, more out of a deep respect than anything. He wasn't sure what philosophy or God his opponent had believed in but he was not one to mourn the dead. That man had giving him a greater battle than any other native of this planet. He would celebrated that feat instead of mourning its end.

Radioing back to 'the pervert', he reported that the situation had been dealt with, much to 04's consternation. Apparently she had been excited to fight something different. Too bad for her.

But even now, something felt off. Feeling himself coming off the adrenaline high of battle, he felt a slow ache begin to grow in this side. Looking down curiously, he noticed a red liquid dripping down his pants.

"Blood?" He asked himself quietly, running his hands over his stomach. Finding a protrusion, he gripped and pulled out a four inch piece of shrapnel. "Interesting."

Craning his neck to the side, he frowned at the wreckage of his opponent. "You actually wounded me." He said with the faintest glimmer of a smirk on his face. "You were quite the strong one, human."

Turning, he began a slow walk back to the spaceship he had been born on, his head held high. Mentally, he promise to return to his opponent's grave here and give him a proper send off. He still never got a good look at his opponent and he wanted the memory of the man who drew first blood upon him to be firmly imprinted in his mind.

 _SNAP_

A brief buzzing in the back of his head was his only warning, and he thrust his sword blindly into blocking position as pure bloodlust spouted from behind him.

Silver eyes widened as a metal fist crunched through his blade and continued its path unerring into his face. He felt that one. His body flew through the air like a ragdoll before hitting a tree at high speeds. The wood shattered inward, the splinters settling around Mutsu as his body dug a deep trench into the Earth.

"What...the...hell?" He coughed, a pink frock of blood and bile escaping his lips as he struggled to stand. Before he could managed, his legs were kicked out from under him and went crashing to the forest floor once again. Blood seeped into his eye from a nasty cut that was sure to require stitches and he gasped in agony as terrible pain filled his very soul.

A grunt above him was heard, before an explosion of pain engulfed his right hand, which had held stubbornly to his (now broken) sword throughout the whole ordeal. The blade was useless now, and he found he had no qualms releasing it from under the force of a boot that pressed on his hand. What was happening?

Doing his best to roll despite his pinned appendage, Mutsu looked into the face of his attacker.

The man look nearly as bad as he felt. Blood poured from nearly every orifice on his body, showing up in sharp relief to the dust that covered him. His clothes were ripped, ruined beyond all repair. His combat vest was in tatters, revealing to the world scarred skin both fresh and old that covered his torso. His pants were destroyed, resembling shorts now, his boots but mere strings around his foot. But his teeth were bared in a defiant snarl and in his hand he held a knife that was already in motion.

In the brief second before the butt of the weapon made contact with the side of his skull, Mutsu felt his opponent's mental defense shift before dropping entirely.

What he felt through his psychic skill was…warmth. Not the humid heat of the island but a welcoming presence that Mutsu couldn't help but be drawn too. It was like those movies number three always pirated, the ones that ended with the cowboy riding off into the sunset with the girl smiling on. It was bliss.

Then he fell into the sweet realm of oblivion.

 **XxX**

He's running on instinct now, tired, wounded, pursued. His breath is harsh as he ran through the forest, desperately searching for the helicopter on which he came in.

' _Concussion, three fractured ribs, broken arm, multiple slashing wounds, serious blood loss. Combat efficiency: 12%._ '

But he can't stop. He has to keep going, despite every injury. Pain is familiar, pain is irrelevant, and pain does not have power over him.

So he runs and runs and runs. He handles the bundle in his hands carefully, with an almost reverent care. His mission must be delivered alive, he must. The Winter Soldier knows that he is nothing without his mission, and so his mission is his life, his purpose. He would do anything for it, to succeed.

The bundle groans, the sprint no doubt jostling his wounds. Stopping to catch his breath, the Soldiers hides in the shade of a tree, looking over his captive.

Blood. There was blood pouring out of him and shrapnel in his back. If he was human he would have gone into shock by now but, as he wasn't, he just moans pitifully. That wouldn't do.

Shaking hands pawed through the remains of his tactical vest, searching for the solution. He tries to ignore the urge to examine his wounds, for he knew his body was unimportant in regards to the mission. Finally, shaky hands extracts one of the four syringes, each miraculously preserved.

They were from a joint experiment between SHIELD and the Canadian Government known as the Weapon X Project. Results were mixed but HYDRA managed to procure one of the lasting legacies of the experiment and refine it.

Positioning himself above his target, he didn't bother finding a vein before stabbing the needle into the man's arm.

The results were instantaneous. The wounds on the target began to close at a visible rate, cells regenerating at a speed that violated the laws of nature. Soon the bleeding stopped and even the bruising began to disappear. It wouldn't be long before it appeared as if the mission had never fought him at all.

Which would be a problem, if he decide to fight back. The syringes benefits were short lived, as the body rejected the foreign substance, but the assassin knew he had no chance of winning an engagement with the alien a second time. He even lacked suitable restraints, which he doubted would have held the alien anyway, with which to bind him.

Rising slowly, he began reaching for his mission to continue his crazed sprint before a high pitch beeping issued from his arm. Face impassive, he discarded the used syringe and pocketed the remaining three before pressing a small panel on his arm.

"This is your new handler," A voice spoke from the hidden radio in his (now heavily dented) metallic arm. "I apologize we won't be able to meet in person but your previous handler made a significant misstep in your deployment." The voice paused, clearing his throat before adding. "He has been dealt with."

The voice on the other end of the line paused, as if waiting for a response. But the Soldier just waited for orders. "We are in full retreat on all points." The voice said after a prolonged silence. "You are too valuable an asset to leave on that God forsaken island, so get to the helicopter, double time. Drop anything that might be slowing you down, we cannot wait for you."

Nodding, the man moved to follow orders. Standing, he fought off a wave of dizziness that flowed through him, before turning to walk away from the alien. His mission had changed and thus the target he had almost died to defeat didn't mean anything now.

Only to stop when a hand that felt like a vice grip closed on his shoulder.

The man tensed under his Mutsu grip, like a caged animal that was willing to claw off its own leg to escape a trap. Bloodlust once again exploded from the masked man with an almost physical force that caused the very trees seemed to bend in reverence to it.

But Mutsu wasn't concerned, not in the least. Even a child could tell that his opponent was in no shape to fight back. He was covered in dust, blood and rags, nothing like the proud assassin he had fought just minutes before.

"You healed me." He asked simply. "Why?"

As he watched the man's face for reaction, he couldn't help but distantly recognize this was the first real look he had had at his former opponent. And even through the grime that coated him, he couldn't help but think he was incredibly handsome.

' _Wait, what?_ '

That handsome face looked on impossibly, no doubt thinking of the proper response. Or maybe he was just figuring out a way to kill him, even though that was an impossibility.

"You were my mission." Cracked bloody lips finally said, as if that simple statement had explained everything.

Mutsu raised an eyebrow. He must admit, his contact with the human race was limited. Besides his adjuster, Takamine and the mad man, he hadn't had a single meaningful confrontation with any of their kind yet. Well, besides the kind that ended with a sword in there belly and lots of screaming.

But this one was odd, different. In the future, he would look back on this day and see a broken number, not a human Ashikabi. His mind could make that connection but it seems his body had other ideas.

A sudden heat had started to pool in his stomach, growing with each passing second. His cheeks had taken a pink ting and he fought the urge to duck his head in embarrassment, even though he hadn't done anything. His heart beat a steady stucco in his chest, growing louder and louder every second. He had never felt such a thing before, but he knew he was reacting to the bloody man before him.

Withdrawing his hand slowly, he flexed it carefully, thinking. "You fought me." He said, a slight tone of awe leaking into his voice. "That shouldn't be possible."

It was a lesson number one had drilled into all of them the second they had awoken. They were Sekirei, beings of great strength and power. They had conquered the stars, leaving behind a great empire to find there destined ones, which they would exalt and protect. And they would need protecting, Miya had said, for they were like fragile glass compared to them.

The subtext hadn't been intentional, Mutsu was sure, but the goddess had made them sound...weak, pathetic. That it was a simple fact that an Ashikabi would be below them in every respect that mattered but they would serve them anyway. Like love was some sort of sacrifice to be under taken, instead a joy to be uplifted.

Karasuba had taken this view to the logical extreme. She looked at a human and saw nothing but an insect to be crushed. Mutsu doubted she would ever truly feel the heat that he was feeling now, a deep pang of affection that came with a natural reaction. If she ever did find an Ashikabi, it would be totally economical. Emotionless and cold to the end.

"I can feel you, you know." He said softly. Nervously, he began playing with his scarf, the orange fabric comforting him. "Even as you try to shut me out, we're linked, you and I."

He sighed, dragging his toe through the dirt mournfully, noting he was missing a shoe for some reason. "I think you can be my Ashikabi. My chosen one, till the end of the line. Will you accept me?"

Looking up, he found nothing but the empty air to greet him. Blinking, he turned in a circle, looking for the masked man. He found only the shade of the trees and the blowing of the wind. He was alone, all alone. Desperate, he sent a pulse of mental energy out, hoping. No echo returned to him, his destine one blocking his mind from his summons.

Falling to his knees, he felt the urge to cry. But no tears came, only one sad smile.

"Fate is not so cruel," He said to himself. "We will meet again, my Ashikabi, and when that day comes, I will be yours, as you shall be mine. Forever and ever."

 **XxX**

"Mission Report."

The soldier replied instantly. "I may be compromised."

Instantly, several weapons were pointed in his direction, held by stone eyed men and ready to fire at a moment's notice. The handler did nothing, calmly sitting across from the assassin as if they were talking about the weather.

"The target species are psychic." The answer was delivered in a monotone, the former Sergeant starting at a wall instead of at the room's occupants. "One claimed that he was connected to me. I believe I am free of outside influence but he is there, feeling my emotions."

The handler's eyes narrowed. "Strength?"

"Low, he can't read any information or complex thoughts, only raw sentiment." The Soldier paused, analyzing the foreign entity in his mind. "It wants me, specifically."

The handler nodded, a slight smile crossing his lips. "Understood," He swiveled in his chair, finding the doctor lurking in the shadows. "Wipe him and freeze him. That should take care of any mental intrusions."

His work complete, the handler stood before exiting the room, ignoring the pained screams behind him. Walking quickly, he navigated the hidden base, arriving at a communications center in good time. Keying his code quickly, he joined a call between the most powerful men of the world.

"' _...15% combat ready. Navy is highest at less than one half casualties and the air force reports a total loss of all operational fighter planes._ '"

"Where does that leave us?"

" _This attack single handedly pushed back our military might by 10 years, perhaps more. We will need to postpone the plan. All in favor?"_

Several different variations of the word 'yes' echoed across the line.

" _Motion passes. What is our next move?"_

" _Germany and Japan are already assembling a second task force._ " This voice paused, an air of palpable caution present, even over the phone. " _We could piggyback onto those forces, make a second attempt."_

" _No_ ," This voice was resolute, a hint of steel creeping into it. " _If the might of HYDRA could not take them today, they will not be taken. We lost one head today and we must wait for the two new ones to grow."_

" _We can't just sit here! That technology could push humanity forward by at least a century_!"

" _Which is why we won't_ ," The voice replied smugly. " _I have a plan_."

A hushed, almost reverent silence fell over the line. Across the world, leaders of the Nazi offshoot leaned forward in their chairs, edger and skeptical all at once.

"Why fight," Baron Zemo began, a cruel smile on his face. "When you can negotiate."

 **XxX**

 **Alright, welcome to this story! As it stands, this is a sort of proof of concept, testing the waters, so to speak. If you would like me to write more, I would very much appreciate some positive criticism on this story.**

 **To that point, I have a couple of questions:**

 **!) How big should Bucky's flock be?**

 **2) How is Bucky? Too weak? Too Powerful?**

 **3) Would you mind if I went AU? Like really AU?**

 **Also, just a note, if I were to write more, this would be a Marvel in Sekirei. That means it's 90% Sekirei and a mere 10% Marvel cinematic universe (with some comic inspiration). Also, Minato is his own person. I do not intend to replace Minato with Bucky or to take Minato's Sekirei and give them to Bucky (unless you** **really** **want me to).**

 **Regardless, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

' _Warning,'_ the sign said in several different languages. ' _Entering construction zone! Hardhat Required!_ '

Stopping dutifully, the neatly dressed man couldn't help but smile at the sign. Looking at the sawdust covered tables that surrounded him, he found one sky blue helmet sitting innocently. Reaching into his pocket, he produced an alcohol wipe, giving the inside of the helmet a vigorous scrub before placing it on his head.

The sign and alcohol swab gave him a sense of comfort he had lacked since arriving in Japan. When his employer had requested that he head to Tokyo City and enter negotiations with a thorn in his organizations side, he nearly had a heart attack. The people of Japan were nothing but depraved loons in his eyes, especially the children. Just look at the things they used as entertainment, full of shameless girls and bloodied psychopaths.

He even heard these so called Manga had crossed the Pacific and were encroaching on the very America's themselves. It almost made him physically ill to think such thoughts.

But still, he was a dutifully servant, so he packed one suitcase with papers and personal hygiene products before stepping on a private jet destined for Tokyo.

One limousine ride later and here he was at the future seat of MBI's power, stepping carefully around the welders and carpenters that ran across the rising superstructure like ants.

All those men following orders diligently almost brought a tear to his eye. Order, security, and peace where HYDRAs goals, and places like this showed exactly why those traits were needed.

One wrong move in a construction site could spell disaster for not only the worker but the project as a whole. And if a worker chose to blatantly throw off the safeguards that have been set out to protect him, he wasn't acting patriotic or individualistic, but idiotically.

Truly the world was nothing more but a giant construction site, full of useless rabble that thought they could throw off the very safeguards that kept them alive. Sure they might attempt to cover their sins under the pretenses of 'freedom' and 'creativity'. But they were just parasites, living off the healthy body.

And so, if the world was construction site, then it was HYDRAs given mission to run it. They would choose the designers and the builders with the utmost care. Therefore, since they had built this world with their own hands, they had every right to decide who lived in it.

It was time to see if MBI would be one of the residents.

Moving quickly, began making his way through the great construction site. Absent-mindedly wiping some sawdust off his shoulder that fell from above in a constant stream, he made his way through the great complex, pausing only to take note of a cluster of giant gears that the work crews were using great cranes to lift.

Finally he came upon his target, sitting innocently behind the rising superstructure. A bleach white, mobile office trailer caused him to shutter, weary of all the germs its previous inhabitants could have left within.

Steeling himself, he climbed a step ladder before delivering three firm knocks upon the door.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, the door opened, revealing two figures inside.

The first, standing tall and proud was a Japanese woman. Her black (rapidly graying) hair was slightly disheveled and she looked like she had just undergone some form of vigorous exercise. Judging by the metal clipboard in her hand, which appeared to be dented, she had beating the second figure to a pulp.

Said second figure, dressed in pure white so blinding that the Neat Man had to fight the urge to blink, was sprawled ignobly on the ground. One hand (complete with white glove) twitched near the remains of a shattered pair of glasses but he otherwise remained still, his white hair hiding his face from the world.

"Welcome to Mid Bio Informatics," The woman said, breathing heavily. "How can we help you?"

Distantly, the Neat Man wonder if this was some form of negotiation tactic. That those diligent workers were really spies that had seen him coming and radioed ahead to their commander to put on this little charade in an attempt to throw off his game. He wouldn't have minded if they were, he would be proud in fact. Yet, as the white haired man grown pitifully on the ground, the Neat Man had trouble connecting this to any real plot.

So he ignored it. "Greetings," He said, offering his hand in acknowledgement. "I represent the Serpent Society, I believe we have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon."

"The 'Serpent Society'," She purposely ignored his awaiting hand, looking at him through narrow eyes. "I've never heard of you."

Internally sighing at the lack of insight, he kept a pleasant smile on his face. "We represent several industries of note worldwide, working together in harmony to progress humanity as a whole." Pausing, he added. "I'm sure you received our information packet we left when you accepted our request for a meeting."

"I don't believe we-" The lady was abruptly cut off when the body, which had been twitching slow up until now, sprang up, gripping his hand and pimping it vigorously. "Oh course! It's a pleasure to be meeting with the Serpent Society!"

Ehh? "The...pleasure is mine?"

"Come in, come in!" The white haired man shouted, producing a new pair of glasses as he dragged the Neat Man bodily through the doorway. "Why are you so rude, Takami-chan? I've been looking forward to this meeting for weeks!"

"Really?" The now identified Takami replied skeptically. "You haven't mentioned it."

Covertly reaching into his pocket, the Neat Man used the woman's question as a distraction to free his hand. Shaking slightly, he relaxed when he felt the burning sensation of an alcohol wipe on the 'unclean' appendage.

Breathing deeply, he noted that there was more than two individuals besides himself present in the room. Secluded in the corner amongst several computer banks was what appeared to be a ghost, illuminated solely by the harsh glow of the computer monitors. Only the constant motion of her fingers and the frown that marred the red-head's face was proof she was alive.

Judging from her physique, state of dress and lack of (apparent) awareness, the Neat Man could have easily mistaken her for an intern. He knew better, of course, he had received a basic briefing on the so called 'MBI situation'. Not all the facts (something about 'compartmentalization'), but enough to know her kind slaughtered their way through STRIKE commandos like they were tissue paper. He decided it was best to be on his toes.

"Oh, please, when have I ever kept secrets from you? This meeting could very well change the course of the entire Sekirei pl-" The man, who was decidedly Minaka Hiroto judging from his eccentric behavior, was cut off from a blow to the head via his clipboard wielding subordinate. Judging from the glare she was giving him and the lack of the alien's reaction, this was a normal state of affairs.

"Later," The gray hair women growled at her opponents defeated form. "I am going to remind you of the meaning of the word 'discretion'." Sighing, she turned her back towards the CEO, giving the Neat Man a look that made it clear just how little she thought of him.

Muttering something about 'poor life choices', she sat down at a desk near the back of the room, shuffling piles of paper to and fro in a vain attempt to make it look organized. Without glancing up from her task, she pointed at the cheap folding chair across from her, which the Neat Man carefully took.

Apparently deciding her task was an impossible one, she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"So, what does this 'Serpent Society' want with MBI?"

"We at the Society want quiet a lot," The Neat Man replied, his weight shifting ever so slightly. Most people not skilled in the art of diplomacy didn't realize how an outwardly civil conversation was actually a war of words. The smallest turns of phrases and subtle shifts of body language equated to screaming obscenities and begging in a normal discussion. The term 'poker face' was nowhere near sufficient. "To be frank, we would rather you not exist at all."

There, the first move. So far, the growing pharmaceutical company had only received the tide of well-wishers, smaller businesses that begged for the opportunity to leach off this rapidly expanding Empire. By opening aggressively, the Neat Man sought to show that he was unlike the rest of the rabble.

Plus, it served as a measuring point to see how emotional this woman was. An important part of negotiation was understanding who you were negotiating with after all. He had been expecting to deal with Minaka Hiroto, but it seems this woman was the one actually running the company. Hopefully she was the agreeable sort.

He was disappointed. "Then you can get the hell of my office." Seemingly punctuating her point, she blew a ring of smoke directly into his face. "Mid Bio Informatics intends to remain open for the foreseeable future and nothing you do will be able to change that."

Resisting the tears building in his eyes from the acrid smoke, the Neat Man nodded stiffly. "So you intend to continue your current path, then? Attempt to dominate the world medical markets and beyond, build Asia's first super company?"

He wasn't lying. MBI had already strong-armed 40% of the Japanese market into total submission. What they couldn't buy they simply destroyed, either through business or through espionage. It really did look like they were preparing to take over the world.

The best part was the fact that the Japanese government have released a special executive order allowing them to do so. They would soon be the world's largest legal monopoly. Any local competitors simply didn't have a chance.

"You read too many comic books for a lawyer." The MBI representative replied, distain evident. "You make it sound far too fantastic to be real. But, to answer your question, yes. In ten years we will effectively own Tokyo and your 'society' can either be destroyed or rid our coattails to success."

The Neat Man had to resist the urge to leap across the desk and throttle the woman. HYDRA would never bow to the likes of these people. HYDRA was stronger than anything they could ever hope to be, more powerful than they could comprehend.

It was time to show them there arrogance.

"That threat certainly wasn't subtle." They were breaking establish forms of negotiation, but he wouldn't get through to this women otherwise. "I noticed your company has serious issues with that word: subtlety. Perhaps if you have been more educated in that field, we could have avoided the whole unpleasantness on the island."

Ahh, she flinched. Barely, but it was there. "Island? What idiocy are you spouting?"

"No need to play coy, Doctor." The Neat Man's face changed into a harsh smile, gleaming predatorily. "The slaughtered that occurred on Kamikura Island would have been avoided if you would have acted with the smallest bit of tack." He leaned forward, voice accusing. "But no, you and your little boyfriend found something that mankind was not meant for and the taste of power those creatures gave you went to your head!"

For a long moment, silence reign over the room. Every occupant turned to look the Neat Man, eyes wide and mouth open. He could see the questions scroll through their face like a film: 'how does he know about the island?', 'how does he know about the aliens?' and finally 'who is this man?'

Then several things happened at once. Takami reached into her desk and produced a handgun, aiming it deftly at the man's head. The redhead in the corner hit several buttons on the computer screen, causing metal shutters to close over the windows and emergency lights to turn on, bathing the room in an eerie red light.

Distantly, alarms went off, no doubt to alert security.

All according to plan. "Do I have your attention now?"

The women's eyes narrowed, a soft click issuing from the gun as she removed the safety. "Inexcusably," gun remaining firmly focused on him, she turned and spoke to the other female in the room. "Matsu, who is he?"

"I don't know?" She replied, voice subdued as her hands flew over the keyboard. "I've broken through four false I.D.'s, but there always seems to be more."

"I told you," The Neat Man chimed. "I represent the Serpent Society."

"You shut up. CIA? MI-6? Have you tried those?"

"He is not listed in any intelligence databases." The hackers voice had become miffed, irritation leaking in. "The 'Serpent Society' didn't exist until a week ago, whatever he is, he isn't government."

"Then I guess we'll give him to Karasuba, see what she can get out of him." The Neat Man felt himself shiver, despite not having a clue who this 'Karasuba' person was, no doubt she was unpleasant.

Bop!

For a second, the Neat Man though she had shoot him, the loud noise causing everyone to jump slightly. He waited for the pain, but none came. Opening his eyes carefully, he found no pool of blood pouring out of his body, as he expected. Touching his chest carefully, he turned to see the most peculiar sight.

"I thought we should celebrate," The white cloaked man looked demonic in the red light, the effect only enhance by the unhinged smile on his face. Approaching swiftly, he offered the Neat Man a bottle of champagne with a flourish. "Would you like some?"

Recovering quickly, the Neat Man nodded slowly.

"Get away from him, idiot!" It was interesting to note that beneath her scolding tone, there was actually some real concern in Takami's voice. "He could be dangerous!"

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, the CEO removed the gun from his minders hand with care, replacing it with a glass of bubbling liquid. "I told you I was looking forward to this meeting for weeks, have more faith in me." Pouring himself a helping of the drink, he looked up. "Would you be so kind as to turn off the alarm, 02? It makes for a poor party atmosphere."

Matsu looked at the man like he was insane (which he very well might be), before slowly complying. The shutters retracted, allowing light to pour in as the sirens died in the background.

"Much better," The gentleman said to the party. "I propose a toast to the future partnership between MBI and this 'Serpent Society'."

Slightly amused, but as unflappable as a rock, the Neat Man clinked glasses with the chairman carefully before taking a small sip. He smile approvingly. Vainly, the chairman attempted to get the gray hair women to drink, but she seemed frozen in a state of either total confusion or rage. Shrugging, the chairman took a sip as well, before turning his full focus to the lawyer.

"I expected you to be earlier, truth be told."

Allowing a sheepish smile to cross his features, the Neat Man rubbed the back of his head awkwardly "I'm sorry if we kept you in suspense, but the higher ups didn't want our first civil meeting to be...hostile." Making a flighty gesture with his hand, the Neat Man continued. "Best to allow both parties to cool down, especially after the island debacle."

"Regrettable business indeed." The very solemn reply was shattered by the reanimation of Takami, who proceeded to punch her boss in the stomach repeatedly. The Neat Man winced as flakes of spittle landed on his shoe.

Standing, she glared at both of the males, promising pain in her gaze. "Explain. Now."

"Come, I thought it would be obvious by now, Takami-kun!" Minaka beamed. "He's the Illuminati!"

Both the humans in the room winced, for slightly different reasons. Takami because she was sure that Minaka had lost the last bit of sanity he had left and the Neat Man because...

"You don't have to call us that." He said with barely restrained anger. "In fact, please don't."

Takami's head snapped to the sitting man, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Excuse me," A voice drifted across the room. "Matsu wants to know what this 'Illuminati' is."

Leaning to his feet, Minaka beamed at the alien. "I'm glad you asked! The Illuminati is the secret, world controlling organization that has guided the very course of human history since the dawn of time!" Turning, Minaka bowed to the Neat Man. "Truly, it is an honor to have you in our midst."

"The pleasure is mine." The Neat Man replied, returning the bow in European fashion. "It's very rare to meet someone who forces the Society to changes its plans so suddenly, especially under positive circumstances."

"Wait, wait," Takami said, breaking the mutual 'pleasure'. "You're actually real?"

The Illuminati, no." The Neat Man replied, returning to his seat carefully. "An organization dedicated to a one world order for all of humanity, yes."

"Incredible."

"So," The head researcher asked slowly, approaching the situation like a bomb might go off at any moment. "Why are you here?"

"I was speaking honestly earlier, the Society would rather you not exist." Shaking his head sadly, the ambassador gestured to the office around them. "You are a third party that we did not account for in our plans. To be frank, I am here to limit the damage that you can cause to us."

"The damage we could do to you?" The head researcher replied bitterly. "If I recall, you are to one's who invaded our island."

To her surprise, the man lifted back his head and laughed. Takami found she had to fight the urged to punch him, the laugh was eerily reminiscent of Minaka when he decided to do something particularly idiotic. She couldn't repress the cringe that over took her features.

Finally, the man stopped, breathing heavily. "If I recall," He had to stop, repressing a round of giggles that threatened to overtake him. "If I recall, you destroyed everything we threw at you without a scratch! Please don't pretend you are the weak, innocent business under attack from the big bad government, it's unbecoming."

"Yes yes, I'm sure." The MBI CEO, who had been watching with a critical eye seemed to reignite, returning to a full energy eccentric in zero seconds flat. "But what's stopping me from conquering this world in my own name? I have a legion of super soldiers at my command," Standing, he pointed to the sky, posing to accent his dedicated to his cause. "We could overcome the Illuminati and rule the skies above!"

The Neat Man winced, the word 'Illuminati' causing him no small amount of distress. Before he could correct the CEO, however, the red-headed alien spoke.

"Miya-tan would not allow that, not at all. And you control none of us," She trailed off, before a lewd grin spread across her face. "Except Kaze-tan, she would be 'more' than happy to..."

"That's enough from you," Takami said, throwing a coffee cup at the giggling alien. The girl wailed piteously in response.

Ignoring the woman's antics, the Neat Man filed the tidbit on this 'Miya-tan' away for later before answering. "The answer to Mr. Hiroto's question, I'm afraid, will not be quite what you're expecting."

"I knew it!" The white haired man shouted, throwing his hands up victoriously. "What is it? A super weapon? An army of clones? A battalion of magic assassins?"

"Nothing of the sort," this man really did read too many bad comic books in his youth. Clicking open the leather briefcase he had brought with him, the Neat Man produced several official looking pieces of paper. Laying them on the head researcher's desk, the man returned to his drink. "If we were playing chess, I would now declare 'check'."

Like an excited child, Minaka grabbed the nearest paper before running to his desk, muttering about 'schematics' and 'ninjas'. His head scientist, by contrast, simply sat down before carefully reading the remaining papers.

"What is this?" Minaka shouted, turning the paper as if it was part of a puzzle. "Some sort of freemason code?"

"Not at all," The Neat Man replied with a faint smile. "It's simply legal speak." Turning, he nodded to the gray haired women. "What do you think, Miss Sahashi?"

"I'm a doctor," She muttered, reading carefully. "Not a lawyer." Raising her eyes, she regarded the Serpent Society representative carefully. "What are you playing at?"

Allowing his face to fall into a picture of sorrow, the man shook his head with an almost mocking sadness. "Those papers will spell the end of MBI, I'm afraid." Although his tone was gentle, his eyes glinted with barely restrained mirth. "As of yesterday, the Japanese government has approved a freeze on all bank accounts related to MBI and any of its associates."

Taking the opportunity to produce another alcohol wipe from his briefcase, the Neat Man couldn't help but smile at the humor of it all. MBI, a mega-corporation still in its infancy, would be struck down before it could escape its crib. And not by some daring hero, undertaking a holy quest. Nor by a black ops group raiding enemy territory in the dead of night.

It would fall because of accounting. Accounting, that oh so often looked down upon discipline that had kept the world of finance running throughout the ages. Without access to their Japanese bank accounts, soon MBI would find themselves defaulting on all their liabilities. Those workers he had past as he walked here would find themselves penniless, as would the construction company the labored for. That, in turn, would lead to legal action which would drain MBI's few remaining resources.

He had no doubt that, if MBI were so inclined, they could still acquire large amounts of money to pay those debts. Not legally, however. And with the nations of the world watching carefully, like lions ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness, such a move could only result in folly.

"I see," Minaka's voice sounded strangely subdued, lacking its usual mirth. "So we are at an impasse."

"Correct, Mr. Hiroto," The Neat Man nodded, turning his full attention to the CEO. "We cannot hope to destroy you militarily and you are powerless before our financial positioning."

It went left unsaid that even if HYDRA used its influence to financially cripple MBI, the fallout could be actually worse than letting them exist. To HYDRA, releasing an unknown number of alien super soldiers into the world with no oversight or backing was a recipe for chaos. And HYDRA hated chaos.

"Fascinating," The white haired man whispered to himself. Raising his head, he looked curiously at his guest. "You mentioned earlier that this was merely 'check', not 'checkmate'." Minaka's glasses flashed in the light, turning opaque in the light. "Curious."

"None of those edicts go into effect until the first of next month." The Neat Man wrung the wipe carefully, knowing this was the most delicate part of the proceeding. "Plenty of time for both of us to come to an agreement concerning...future events."

"Future events?" Sahashi parroted, a look of disbelief overtaking her face. "If you are who you claim you are, these 'future events' could decide the course of human events for the decade, at least."

Snorting, the Neat Man shot the woman an unamused look. "Once again, you make it sound so fantastic, Doctor." Pausing, a frown wormed onto his features. "But I can't claim you're wrong."

"The terms?"

"We will give you Asia," His voice sounded dull, monotone despite the enormity of the claim. "Any venture you undertake on this continent will succeed with minimum difficult."

Taking a sip of his Champaign, he continued. "Those edicts will be quietly disposed of and the proper authorities will be encouraged to forget they ever existed." Reaching into his pocket, the diplomat pulled out several business cards, placing the pile on the table reverently. "Those are the contact details of some of the world's best companies, specifically ones skilled in matters of security, supply acquisition and law. They have been notified that they will be working for you, if you so choose, entirety _pro bono_."

The cards were quickly snatched up by Takami, giving them a swift glance before standing. Walking over to the corner, she spoke softly with the glasses wearing single number before depositing the cards in her care. She set to work on her computers immediately, no doubt attempting to confirm the validity of the Neat Man's claim.

Minaka apparently didn't share her misgivings. "A generous offer." He mused, stroking his chin dramatically. "There are, of course, stipulations."

"The Sekirei are off the table." The head researcher added with conviction, returning to her seat with a glare.

"Like we would want them," The man said, surprising both scientists. "We were after the technology, not these 'Sekirei'. Technology can further our plans by decade's but aliens..." He shook his head. "They tend to be irritations."

"You say that like you've dealt with aliens before." Takami said with a small amount of mirth, extracting another cigarette from her pocket. The Neat Man stayed silent, glaring at the nicotine distastefully before continuing.

"The stipulation is two-fold. First, we get the rest of the world. Asia is more than a big enough playground for whatever you have planned." Tossing the now thoroughly used wipe into a trash bin, he smirked to himself when he made it. "This means staying away from competing with foreign companies. Don't provoke Stark Industry's or Oscorp, we have ways to keep them isolated, but if push comes to shove, these guys will crush you."

That was true. Companies like Stark didn't get to the position they currently occupied by chance. They did it by being better. Not just in sales or design, but better in every possible field that they could see.

So, naturally, they were better at acquiring other companies. Every company had its own approach to absorbing competition into its ranks. Stark would make outlandish offers that only the extremely strong willed could resist. By contrast, those who attracted the eyes of Hammer Industry's tend to experience an influx of difficulties that ended in devaluation, forcing them to accept the 'lifeline' the company would later throw.

Needless to say, Karasuba had been forced to 'take care of' several Hammer goons and Stark Industry had already made two offers for MBI. The goons and Stark had about the same success rate.

"And the second one?"

"We want to be kept in the loop." Was the dismissive reply. "Usually, that would mean we would have observers and advisors hovering around, but you are exceptional. We want a six month warning before you release anything earth shattering onto the market, nothing more."

"We're honored, I'm sure." Turning, the head researcher shouted to the single number. "What have you got, Matsu?"

"Aa, Mutsu found nothing on these 'snake people'," There was a slight pause before the red-head spoke excitedly. "But the official MBI website has already conformation from these companies that they are ready to serve! Wow, these resumes look impressive!"

"As I said," The Neat Man said as he stood, collecting his briefcase as he did so. "We are willing to do business. Thank you for the drink, I will return in two weeks to hear your answer."

In a move that could only be interpreted as rude, the man stood and made a beeline for the door without another word. His mind was already on his luxury Jacuzzi in Germany, amongst 'civilization'. Therefore it wasn't a surprise when he nearly ran into someone on his way down the steps.

A sharp dismissal died on his lips as he felt the distinct sensation of cold steel pressed against his jugular. His eyes narrowed, he tilted his head down slowly in an attempt to avoid provoking his capture. What he saw surprised him.

Blood red eyes glared into his own, causing him to swallow nervously. She was dressed in the same outfit the one on the computer had been, a black kimono with long black socks that left an indecently large amount of skin bare. On her shoulders rested a gray coat, its sleeves empty like (the Neat Man shuttered) a cape.

He hated her instantly. From the tips of her purple hair to the very depths of her soul, she represented everything HYDRA hated. A third party that emerged from the shadows to destroy years' worth of carefully laid plans for no reason other than they felt it was 'right' to do so.

Oh, how he wished to strangle this harlot. To cut the cancerous being out of existence like a surgeon, before she could corrupt the world any further.

Instead he focused on trying not to snarl as he spoke. "My business is finished here, let me pass."

"No," it said as the totsuka sword pressed into his neck, drawing a thin line of blood from its target. "You're the one responsible for the attack upon my feathers?"

Not understanding what the term 'feathers' meant in this context, the man simply attempted to retain as much dignity as he could, looking down the swords impressive length to the one the wielded it. "And you're the one responsible for sinking half our navy."

He had seen the footage, witnessing that awesome power. A normal man might have quaked at it, but he had faith. Not in some silly God or creed, but in the power of HYDRA that would one day reform this world.

"I should kill you where you stand, fifth." This time the Neat Man really did snarl as the alien had the gull to insult him. "But I have need of you."

"I don't follow orders from meddlers!"

"Unfortunate, because you shall follow this one," her eyes narrowed, blood lust leaking out of them in waves. "Bring us the masked man."

For one moment, the man froze. Then he laughed, his jostling almost causing him to skewer himself on the ladies blade. "'Masked Man'? What sort of alien riddle do you threaten me with?"

The sword flashed, drawing back mirror inches before hitting the laughing man with the flat of the blade. The hit would have been a rough shove to a Sekirei, but the man found himself laying in the dirt, tossed several feet away with an angry red mark spreading across his arm.

She was upon him in an instant, sword on his throat and booted foot planted on his chest. His ribs clicked under the pressure, but he ignored the discomfort, focusing instead on the goddess above him.

"The masked man with a metal arm." She spoke clearly, with an unmatched authority. "The being you unleashed upon the islands jungles. We have need of him."

The anger on the Neat Man's face changed in mere seconds to one of rapture. His eyes gleamed with joy and his face twisted into the first real smile he had shown all day. The contrast was deeply unsettling to the leader of the yet to be named Disciplinary Squad, who pressed her foot down further into the man's ribcage.

"You saw him?" His voice was like that of a small child meeting his favorite sport star. "He was there, truly? The Fist of HYDRA walked again?"

Raising her eyebrow at the man's odd behavior, she frowned as the Neat Man spoke of things she had never heard before. Even though she had heard the entire exchange within the trailer, courtesy of a certain red-headed single number, the 'Fist of HYDRA' had not been mentioned. Truly, half the trouble to settling new worlds was all the terms the locals used that she had no inkling of.

Deciding to play along, she nodded. "This man," She spoke again. "You will give him to us."

The anger return in an instant, this time with much more righteousness. "Never!" The man actually had the nerve to squirm under her sword. "He shall lead us to the new world, the tip of the spear against the unrighteous!"

Drawing the sword back to instill more...discipline upon the pinned man, she prepared to swing when a hand caught her own.

Acting on instinct alone, she pulled the hand from her opponents grasp before leaping herself several feet backwards and angling her sword menacingly. Her nerves aching for battle, she felt her anger grow within her.

"Ah," A gray haired female said, sounding pleased. "You're so scary Miya." A leer formed on her face, leaving only her teeth visible. "It excites me!"

"What are you doing, crow?" She snarled to her subordinate, watching the Neat Man stumble to his feet behind the protection the fourth Sekirei. "I told you to check the southern exit."

"The southern exit appears to be just as secure today as it did yesterday." She replied easily, her thumb pushing the hilt of her sword out of her scabbard, a smile still firmly on her face. "So I decided to take the initiative. Imagine my surprise when I find big, bad Miya beating up one of MBIs future business partners." Clicking her tongue, she waged her figure scornfully. "Shame on you, Miya."

"Don't mock me," She growled, allowing her stances to loosen. The Sekirei known as Karasuba was always itching for a fight, but she had at least a minimal amount of restraint, especially in the face of someone like Miya. She (hopefully) wouldn't be so brazen as to attack her superior in broad daylight. "Mutsu needs to know the fate of his Ashikabi."

Ever since the Battle at that cursed island, the S-Guard had begun to fall apart. And Mutsu had started it all.

There were two unspoken assumptions on which the S-Guard ran. The first was that they needed MBI. That the young company's leadership, its morals character and growing strength would eventually provide an environment in which every Sekirei could find an Ashikabi. The second was that the S-Guard was the strongest armed force on the planet. Without superior martial force, there was no way an independent company could protect a group of aliens from potentially hostile world forces.

The two predilection were, perhaps unknowingly, the bases of MBI and the Sekirei cooperation. Sekirei needed a safe environment to breed, and MBI needed protection to create said environment. A symbiotic relationship that had stood for three years already and should have lasted even longer.

But the incident with the masked man changed that. When the tired, but victorious, Sekirei of Kamikura Island had reassembled in the spaceship which they called home, passions had been high. They had utterly crush all opponents, seen them driven before there might in panic as they walked away without a scratch. The first four members had even started a party, with Minaka and Takehito joining in.

Then Mutsu had stumbled through the door, pale and covered in blood. In that one moment, everything began to change.

After rushing the male to the lab and performing a full medical checkup, Miya had debriefed the now thoroughly exhausted single number.

For fifty minutes, the earth mover talked. He told her everything he knew and everything he thought he knew. From the fight in the forest to the injuries he had sustained, stopping only to figure his orange scarf nervously when he confessed that he believed himself to be reacting.

Miya had responded bluntly that she didn't believe him.

In defense of the goddess, she had reason. This was the first time any of the single numbers had faced a military force in any large number. Combat stress could have caused the youngest Sekirei to hallucinate.

And Mutsu was young. He had been out of the growth chambers a mere three months before he had been thrust into combat. So when he claimed he had met his chosen one so soon and that he (the fact that his supposed Ashikabi was a male brought up its own problems) had beat him in combat, Miya saw no reason to believe 05.

She would regret that decision

Her relationship with Mutsu was irrevocably damaged by her lack of faith. The boy avoided her, electing instead to find more concrete evidence that he encountered his chosen one. Oddly enough, Karasuba had been more than happy to assist the boy, likely curious as to the identity of this 'super soldier'.

She had been dismissive of the pair's forays into the battle scared island, comfortable in the knowledge that they would find nothing of this masked man.

That was until a month ago, when an overly smug 04 had deposited a flash drive unto her desk. On it was a single file, a grainy snippet of video that clearly showed a masked man drop three stories from a moving helicopter unto the ground below. Seconds later the holder of the camera was cut apart by Kazehana's flower petals, but that mattered not.

The one armed man was real. Thus, Mutsu statements might have been correct.

And that changed a great many things. It revealed that Sekirei might not need MBI to find there destined ones. It revealed that the Sekirei might not be the invincible combat gods that had always thought themselves to be.

And that was something that could not stand. Miya understood how sentient species worked, after all. They were a single misstep away from the humans seizing all her 'feathers' and dissecting them for their own advancement. Scrambling, Miya had made to only choice she could see at the time. She destroyed the tape and ordered both the single numbers to never speak of the incident again.

The Black Dog was the easiest to convince, oddly enough. She had always been loyal to MBI, for reasons Miya simply could not care to contemplate. The thought that there might actually _be_ another group on the playing field to challenge her increased her zealotry ten-fold.

Mutsu sat through the meeting quietly, his eyes shadowed by the bright overhead lighting and his bowed head. He nodded when she asked him to keep the occurrence a secret, then walked away without a word.

Then, quite simply, he disappeared.

No trace of him could be found, no many hours they searched. The entire squad was assembled, contacts within the worlds various government place on alert and satellites requisition to scan an entire hemisphere. They found nothing.

So here Miya was, one month later. One of her feathers was missing and her only lead was that he _felt_ a connection to a masked, one armed man. One of her feathers was missing and the only possible reason for it was her orders. A young, naïve child was alone in the huge, evil world, and it was all. Her. Fault.

"Oh," Karabusa purred, eyes widening. "I don't think Mutsu wants you anywhere near his master." She adopted a look of contemplation, tilting her head slightly. "He did leave you to find him, after all."

She did not rise to the insult. "What Mutsu wants is not important now, stand aside." She began walking towards the gray haired female, purposely ignoring any threat she might raise. Although the swords-wielding Sekirei was formidable, she was still years behind the purple haired woman. Any fight between the two would be destructive, yes, but the result utterly foreseeable in Miya's favor.

"Miya," a voice called out, its cheerful tone utterly at odds with the tension building. "Let our friend go. There will be plenty of time for you to get to know him later." Even though her eyes remained focus on the blood-thirsty 04, the blinding smile of Minaka Hiroto came to the forefront of her mind. "I trust we will see you soon, reprehensive of the Serpent Society?"

Peeking out from behind the gray-haired Sekirei, who he had been cowering behind for the entirety of the confrontation, the mud covered lawyer gave a narrow nod before beating a hasty retreat into the growing skyscraper. Miya could do nothing but watch him grow, mind already spinning with ways to bypass the CEO's protection of the man.

Sending a final glare at the rebellious pupil, Miya spun on her heel and marched away, a thoughtful look on her face. Perhaps unconsciously, she found herself in front of another trailer, this one occupying the offices of one Takehito Asama. Shrugging slight, the goddess decided to enter.

Her mind always seemed clearer when near the researcher.

 **XxX**

The man once known as the Winter Soldier opened his eyes.

The metal ceiling stared back at him.

It took him a moment to register the stillness of his surroundings and the fact that the familiar hum of the ships engines has ceased. They had docked.

For a long moment, he didn't move, allowing his sleep hazed mind to realize three important facts.

 _HYDRA was gone. He was free. He was once a man known as Bucky Barnes._

Ever since that day on the aircraft carrier, after he saved the life of _that man_ , he had awoken and reminded himself of those three facts. As he had raced across the continental United States, he recited those words like a prayer, even as he fought off every HYDRA lackey and SHIELD thug that had been sent to apprehend him.

And that was it.

Unlike the books, books he knew he once read but couldn't remember, there was no miraculous moment when his past became blinding clear. As he read the story of Bucky Barnes in that museum, he had felt absolutely _nothing_. Not a single recollection appeared as he read his own life story, forever immortalized for the world to see.

That had angered him. Because on a deep, subconscious level, he wanted to know who he was. No, wanted was not a strong enough word, needed was more appropriate. A body cannot exist without a sense of self, a sense which motivates it to get up every day and do. The 'do what' was unimportant, but that fact that there was even a hint of motivation set the sentient apart from the dust.

So he made his mission one of recall. For six months he moved west, stopping only to learn everything he could about himself and the organizations that had controlled him over the years. And for six months, all he had to show for it was hazy dreams about a train and a folder containing a dozen aged newspaper clippings.

Then he got to San Francisco and everything changed.

He was sleeping in an alley, to weary of hotels to stay at one even if he did have the money too. Across the street, an electronics store was showing off its new flat screen television with the movie _Peter Pan_. The Winter Soldier watched it curiously, pausing only to scan nearby bums for weapons. Distantly, he remember that a common way spies were discovered was to ask the suspect a popular culture question, something only an entrenched member of society would know. He wished to avoid such a scenario, so he set about engraining himself amongst the citizenry.

Or, you know, he wanted to watch a move. That was a possibility too.

There was a scene in the film where the children were flying over the London skyline, happily singing a song to that effect. And just as the song reached its crescendo, the merry party landed on the hands of a clock tower.

The clock tower reminded him of something. He startled when he realized it, sending a nearby trashcan flying as he jumped to his feet, racing across the street to get a closer look at the picture. It was familiar, yes, but not quite an exact copy of the thing that tingled on the back of his mind.

So, he waited until the waking hours of the night and snuck into the nearby library. Using skills engrained into his body, but not his mind, he logged into the computer terminal and performed what he hoped to be a quick search.

Three hours later he could confidently claim he was the world's most knowledgeable assassin on the subject of clocks. More importantly, however, he had a lead.

Teito Tower in Shinto Teito was exactly what he was looking for. It was hard to describe, but when he thought of the phrase 'clock tower', his mind held an exact replica of that gray building. He would freely admit to the fact that he was grasping at straws by this point, but with nothing else to go on, he decide a trip to Japan would be prudent.

So here he was, locked in a storage crate full of what appeared to be American hair care products after stowing away. He was down to his last two firearms, a Škorpion machine pistol and heavily modified colt 1911, which both boasted a mere two clips each and three combat knives. He didn't even have body armor, just a leather jacket he had scavenged from a lost and found in some greasy diner a week ago.

But damn if he wasn't excited. Ever since he had changed missions from merely killing to actually surviving, he found it was easier to feel those wonderful emotions.

Perhaps his different 'modes' were being to merge? It was a possibility.

Pushing the thought aside to a later time, he stood up and made his way to the front of the cargo container, pressing his ear against the cold metal. After several seconds of silence, he used his metal arm to bend the steel container before pulling the lock off and exiting.

Following his instincts, he crept through the belly of the ship, sticking to the shadows with a practiced ease. It wasn't long before he found himself shielding his eyes from the blinding sun, which appeared to have just risen over the horizon. Some part of his mind squirmed, bring forth the world 'picturesque' to his mind as he look over Shinto Teito's harbor. He didn't allow the thought to slow him down, however, and jumped down to the dock with no a soul the wiser.

' _Primary mission objective complete: Get to Tokyo_.' The voice of Winter whispered through the confines of his mind. ' _New Objective: Search for clues_.'

This, the former sergeant thought as he stalked through the shipping dock, was the most nebulous part of the operation. He remembered the clock tower built in the center of town, but nothing else. For all he knew, the clock tower could contain anything from a secret HYDRA base to an ordinary office complex. He would even consider the possibility that the clock tower had no real significance at all and he just happened to remember it randomly.

Only one thing was certain, and that was that the clock tower was in the center of Shinto Teito. Therefore, he had been here. And recently, relatively speaking, too. He knew that tall tower was built a mere 15 years ago. Likely, his last deployment before the…before his…

" _You there_!" A voice knocked him out of his internal struggle. " _Halt_!"

Turning, the assassin allowed himself the luxury of cursing himself for his carelessness. Ever since that day, his mind had been distracted, jumbled. It was the kind of thing that lead to mistakes that could get him killed. Or, in this case, spotted by an overzealous pair of security goons.

Thinking quickly, he turned to run into the maze of stacked shipping containers that seemed ubiquitous to docks when something…odd caught his eye.

Well, several things, really. The first thing was that the man who yelled at him yelled in English. Not just English but strongly accented South African English. Then there was the uniforms of the approaching duo, not the light blue of a police unit nor the dark blue of your average 'mall cop', but a pure black with white Japanese highlights. They were jogging, there weapons at rest position, towards him as opposed to shooting.

" _Damn it, Reece_!" One man, wielding an SMG, said in an exasperated tone. " _We're in Japan, some random fucker won't know what the hell you're saying_!"

The now name Reece snorted, coming to a stop just before the long haired soldier. " _Ag, what are you, my mother? Plus there's no way this guy is Asian._ " Turning from his friend, the mercenary nodded politely to him. " _You American_?"

Deciding to attempt to satisfy his curiosity as to the identity of these heavily armed men, he decided to stick around.

He shook his head slowly. " _Russian_." He lied, making sure to accent his English. The rough tone his voice posed from disuse only served to help his performance.

" _I knew it_!" His answer seemed to encourage the more excitable of the pair, much to his partners exasperation. " _Hey, you wouldn't be Commander Frost, would you_?"

Rising his eyebrow curiously, he wondered when private security forces became this excitable. Usually they were either running from him screaming or dying in the face of his onslaughts, sometimes both.

" _You idiot_ ," the yet unidentified merc said, reaching over to cuffing his subordinates helmet over his face. " _Don't go bothering civvies with your ghost stories."_ Turning way, he half-bowed to him. "Please ignore this idiot, sir. He is a bit…hasty."

Switching back to Japanese, he assured him it was no trouble. Taking the intuitive, he explained that he was a sailor who had decided to jump ship.

Falling into a simple façade, a small smirk graced his face. "I don't suppose you are the port authority? If you are, I'm afraid I don't really have any papers to show you." He said, spreading his gloved hands questioningly.

They all shared a brief chuckle, before the younger of the two answered in the negative. "Were looking for several…ah," The boy paused, thinking for a moment. "Escaped prisoners from MBI. We're there private security, you see."

"Interesting," his eyebrow raised, before he looked comically to the side. "So If I see any monkeys in orange suits, I should report it to you?"

"Nah, the monkeys you can let go." The older one answered. "We have this god-forsaken piece of tech to help us find them." He pulled a tablet out of his backpack, showing the 'sailor' the status screen. "You place your hand here," he gestured at the top. "It gets a trace amount of DNA from your skin cells and boom, we know if you're a fugitive or not."

"It even has this really cool music tone when you pass!" The South African said enthusiastically, grabbing the tablet from his superior and nearly shoving it in the Soldiers face. "Wanna try?"

Uh oh. As a general rule of operations, it was a bad idea to leave spare DNA lying around the place, despite what those trained in the Red Room would suggest. And he was too far into to the conversation to just leave.

Good thing he had a trump card in stock. Moving his mechanical thumb and middle finger, he made a snapping motion behind his back. To those not looking for it, it would have been easy to miss a distinct buzz that issued from his hand.

For a second, he almost though it didn't work. Then he saw the streetlamp in the distance flicker twice before going dark and he had to repress a grin.

"Alright," he said, removing his glove and placing his remaining flesh hand on the tablet. "Like this?"

"Yes, sir." The younger one replied with a smile. "Then I hit this button and…"

And nothing, just as his EMP ensured. It was one of the more useful tools in his arsenal, a wave of electronic destroying energy that would break any automated devices within several hundred feet that were not specifically hardened against it. Back when it was first installed, its use had been limited, but as the world had become ruled by the computer it had become nearly invaluable in his operations.

As the two idiots were finding out.

"Umm…" it was almost comical to see the black suit solider press the button with fervor, each time yielding the same result. "Boss man, you wanna…"

"Dear lord, kid. Did you break it again?"

The kid had the decency to flush. "It's not my fault."

"Kid, it is _always_ your fault." Already placing the now junked template in his bag, the man gave him an apologetic sigh. "We need to get this checked out, sir. Thank you for your time."

He watched through narrowed eyes as the two mercenaries walked off into the distance, allowing his false smile to fall back into the emotionless mask he always wore these days. As he turned back towards the city, he allowed his mind to swirl with possibilities.

MBI. There was something about the company that set him on edge, now more than ever. He knew about the firm, if only briefly through its connection to the clock tower that he had researched so thoroughly. They had popped out of the ground a mere twenty years ago, gaining ground and power at an unbelievable rate. He wouldn't put it past them to have some connection to organized crime or something similar. Perhaps they even had the strength to compare to HYDRA's (relatively minute) local resources. The mere fact he had marked their main HQ as something important enough to carry through the sheer agony a mind-wipe might indicated that.

And now they had private security walking brazenly through the capital. Not only fully uniformed, but fully armed troops in a notably anti-military country. That shows they had a lot of influence and a lot of money to throw around to catching these so call fugitives.

Fugitives who were apparently too powerful to be handled by anything less than MBI's private security detail. Details that were searching based on DNA signatures instead of looks. That immediately brought to mind the mutant hunting that had grown to be a really epidemic in the States, especially since the 'President Nixon Incident.'

Perhaps the company was conducting illegal experiments of those with the x gene? That would explain the heavy private security force and the lack of actual police presence.

Oh well, it really wasn't his concern. He had memories to recover. After that, he would have more clarity on whether or not he would need to become involved in this mutant problem. Assuming there was one.

Allowing his feet to come to a halt, Barnes scanned his surroundings with a more interested eye. He had found his way into the middle of what appear to be the business district, skyscrapers surrounding him. Distantly, he realized that a sniper could easily kill him if one was in the offices, but he wasn't concerned. Well, no more paranoid than normal, perhaps.

A low growl caused him to look toward his stomach, observing it questioningly. He really didn't feel hunger anymore, only the occasional ache that signaled he needed food _now_.

It was then he felt a small part of his programming waver, vanishing. The endless drive to find and kill his target disappear and he was reminded how precarious his position was. For just a moment, he allowed himself to fall into total despair.

He fell back onto one of the city benches, clutching his aching head with both hands. Here he was, an illegal immigrant in a city that was overrun with heavily armed operators. He had no money, no allies and no legal way to acquire either. The remains of two great organizations were no doubt searching for him, either to eliminate him or enslave him.

And he had a clock tower.

Unbidden, laughter bubbled out of his throat. It was a dark, twisted tone, something too painful to be considered a laugh. Even to him it sounded mad, desperate. But he couldn't stop. He tilted his head back and laughed into the sun.

"Ah, what a sad laugh you have there Ashikabi-sama."

For the second time today, he found himself cursing his lack of focus. Turning, he found her walking towards him.

Steel gray eyes met his own, there intentions unknowable as they drank in his form. Her hair, fashioned in a messy cut, fluttered and swayed in the wind. Her clothing boarder on indecent, two lashes of fabric that crossed her body in an X, covering her breast but leaving everything else exposed. Sleeves covered her arms, which tempered down to fingerless gloves, connecting the 'shirt' to her black pants that were held by a belt that held a more aesthetic purpose than any functional one.

But the assassin ignored all that, focusing on two things. The sheath sword that she held in hands clenched so tightly that they turned white, and the bright orange scarf.

"We have met before, haven't we?" He didn't know why he said it, but it seemed correct.

"Yes," the women, she was rather developed to be a girl, gestured to the bench. "May I sit?"

It took a mere millisecond for him to measure the threat level of the person before him. She could have attacked him when he was distracted, or followed him to a quieter area to eliminate him without witnesses. The only thing to be gained by appearing in a public area such as this one was to talk. And he really wanted to talk to someone from his past.

Shifting to the side, he nodded. "Please."

He noted that even as she navigated around the bench, her eyes kept him in sight at all times. This itself was unsurprising, but she did it in such a way that showed she had no malice, no hostile intent. As far as he could tell, she hadn't even concerned that he might pull a weapon on him.

Her unwavering gaze didn't change when she sat, angling her body towards him. One hand rose to play with the scarf, the other remain locked on the blade, although she had clearly angled it away from him.

"You were calling for me."

His eyebrows rose. "I was?"

"You were." She nodded. Tilting her head, she sighed. "I've been searching for you for years now, sending out pleas for you." Pausing, she shook her head. "And just when it seems you might have been lost forever, you asked for me."

The man found he had no reply. There was an unrestrained passion in the women's voice that he was having trouble quantifying. A mix of desperation, elation and fear that sent his teeth on edge and ensured his attention.

"You haven't aged a day."

Her words brought a frown to his lips. He clenched and unclenched his metal arm tightly, thinking of an answer for a question that had yet to be given.

"I was frozen," he settled on. Pausing, he turned. "And other things. It is difficult to remember."

"I don't understand." She said, nonplussed by his answer. "Why would someone do that to you?

Breathing in, he exhaled with a deep sigh. "I am a tool. For years that is all I have been. And a tool can lose effectiveness if it is not properly kept. Since I am perhaps one of the most valuable of tools, my care was extensive."

He knew he was avoiding the question somewhat, but he didn't want to say more. He was still trying to understand what had happened to him; both emotionally and logically. Until such a time that he could admit to himself the truth, he couldn't tell the stranger even a fraction of it.

"I understand." Her answer surprised him, not with its words but with its conviction. "Before we met, I was just another piece on a madman's board. It's so frustrating to think of now, but it seemed that everyone was fine with being used, even if all that resulted in was us hurting one another." A grim smile grace her features, her eyes still unerring. "You broke me of their control, in a way. Or, at least, you started to."

"So…" He swallowed, struggling to get the word out of his mouth. "You are now free?"

"Ahhh…no," She shifted nervously, breaking eye contact to look at his shoulder. "I am a Sekirei, you see. We can never truly be free until we are winged by our destined one," Swallowing, the sword-wielder seemed to steel herself. "Which is you."

Distantly, he noted he was taking this rather well. Considering he had just been on the verge of a full-blown mental break down mere moments ago, he had kept his breathing steady and his hands were steady as steel. He hadn't had to fight the urge to fight or flee and even his hunger seemed far away now.

Why was that, he wondered. He should be on guard now more than ever, an unknown that had just admitted to tracking him for years had emerged out of the woodwork to confront him, weapon in hand. Perhaps because she was so personable, so invested in him. Him, not the Winter Solider, not the former Army Sargent, just him.

And that was an intoxicating thought. "'Destined one.'" He said, rolling the phrase around his mouth, testing it. "Odd term."

"Perhaps to humans," She admitted with a shrug. "But to Sekirei, it is the pinnacle of our existence. We are incomplete, you see. We have certain…advantages that puts us far above humans." Pausing, she turned to give him a curious gaze. She blush when he returned it. "Well, most humans at least."

"But…"he prompted.

"We can't use them effectively," Her breathing was starting to become erratic, he noticed. Her pupils were dilating as well. "We need a human, commonly known as an 'Ashikabi', or destined one, to fully control ourselves. Otherwise, we will always be weak, driven only by the desire to find him or her. But once we do, our chains are broken and we can truly begin to live."

"So you desire strength?" He mused, nodding. Strength was something he understood, something simple. It was also versatile, useful for either protecting oneself or expanding ones influence. Every living thing desired something similar, even if they cloaked the request under other titles. He had been a tool to give HYDRA strength, at the end.

Her response surprised him. "No," She nearly hissed. "Some would have you believe that's their desire for winging. They are what you would call 'insane'." Turning she glared at the skyscrapers surrounding them, looking for enemies that failed to appear. "I've encounter several of those types, fought one even. They make my skin crawl." Huffing, the hostile face melted as she returned her gaze to his. "No, the act of winging is something much more than an exchange of power. It is a statement of loyalty, a promise to serve. Once we are winged, we pledge our mind, body and soul to the happiness of our Ashikabi." Leaning back, her face adopted a whimsical expression. "That's why I am now a female."

Wait, what? "What do you mean 'now a female.'?"

Whimsical expression still firmly in place, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "When I was first grown, I was a male." Looking down, she placed a hand over her breast. "Obviously, not anymore."

He didn't know what to say to that so he said nothing at all. The women took the ensuing silence to move closer to him, almost too close for the former assassins comfort.

"I apologize, but time is short." Her voice was cracking now, sweat begin to pool on the tip of her gray hair. "The reaction to bond once we've found our chosen one is strong. I'm sorry to request this of you, but you either need to wing me or kill me."

The second the word 'kill' was dropped, all expression had slide off the male's face. A switch was flicked and the Winter Soldiers empty glare returned to his face at full force. Blue eyes narrowed, searching, watching and observing with the eye of a trained killer.

"Why?"

If the sword-wielder had any fear in the face of Winter, she didn't show it. "Reacting is a physical thing; increased blood flow, loss of motor control, shortness of breath." She shuddered, dropping her sword had dropped it, allowing the appendage to claw at the empty air angrily. "I will attempt to bond with you, whether you wish to or not. If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me."

Then she pounced.

For one terrible second, he thought he had misjudged the situation horribly. Then the present, and momentum, quickly caught up to him as she bodily slammed into him. Arms went wide as he was thrown from the bench, flung away as they crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Elbows, fists and knees followed as the two rolled, struggling for dominance. The former army sergeant had been at peak human conditioning before he had been captured and experimented upon by HYDRA scientist Arnim Zola who had only pushed him above that with the introduction of a dangerous chemical cocktail into his bloodstream. He was faster, stronger, and tougher than any human could hope to be, and that was before the cybernetic enhancements pushed him into the realm of legend.

It wasn't enough. If he had any suspicions remaining that the being on top of him wasn't human, they shattered here. She didn't compare to the likes of Thor, perhaps, but she didn't need to be; she was inhumanly strong.

And despite all the things he had to offer, he was still human. She had chosen her attack well, even in her distracted state she had him firmly in her grasp. His back slammed painfully against the hard concrete, forcing a pained grunt from him that his opponent did not share. She was one him in a second, straddling him, pinning him down with her superior strength and leverage.

She had known about the metal arm, prioritizing its immobilization above his head, but the man had gotten his flesh one free in the struggle. Gripped tightly between his knuckles was one of the knives he was able to use with such skill that it had spelled the end for many a victim. He shoved the edge of the blade against her side, ready to end her life with one quick thrust.

He should kill her. Before her free hand could close around his neck: with her strength she could snap his neck with ease. She had made a mistake in not acting quickly, not finishing the fight with all the viciousness it was due, an error he would not make.

Then something so incredulous happened, causing all thoughts of to combat ground to a halt. Her lips met his in a fevered clash, the hand he was sure was going to wring his neck stroking his cheek with a fondness he had never thought possible.

A thousand emotions ran through his head, the lack of pain from combat and the action of the women on-top of him to let out a startled gasp. His partner took advantage of that, shoving her tongue down his throat with a fervor that braved that of a hunted animal. He hesitated, pulling the knife away gently.

"Hmm…" She sighed as she pulled her lips from his. The sound was drowned out as the earth shook and tumbled around them, the very ground itself seeming to buck at the spectacle above. With a great heave, twin pillars of stone exploded from the ground around them, rising up to frame the beauty that had stolen a kiss from the world's deadliest assassin. If one were to look, they would compare the girl to an angel, one with wings of granite.

"By the strength of my steel, I shall shelter the heart of my Ashikabi," She said, smiling down on him with an unequaled joy. "And I will serve you faithfully, now and forevermore."

And with such a declaration, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed into the chest of one very confused man. The wings disintegrated into dust, leaving the couple in the middle of the (now abandon) square.

' _Primary mission objective complete: Search for clues_.' The voice of Winter whispered through the confines of his mind. ' _New Objective: Gain Context_.' A brief pause echoed through the mind of one James Buchanan Barnes, before a follow-up sounded. _'Secondary Objective: Get a Drink First.'_

If only he was so lucky.

* * *

 **Wow, people actually read this story! I didn't expect that, but thanks for looking through my (embarrassingly short) opening chapter. Honestly, I'm one of those people who really prefer longer reads, so I feel I should apologize for that.**

 **Okay, moving on. Its hard to write Bucky, I think. You need to make him human and relatable(he is the main character, after all), but he needs to still retain the effects of past experiences that really should have reduced him to a quivering mass of jelly. So if you have any tips for that, I would appreciate it.**

 **On the subject of Bucky being bi, as you can see, I won't really be pursuing that route. It actually bothers me to reduce one of the few male Sekirei to a female, but I wanted a single-number that a) wasn't Minato's and b) wasn't Akitsu/Karasuba. That left me with...two Sekirei. One of which was dead. You can do the math.**

 **Speaking of which, Akitsu/Karasuba...do you want them? I really like both characters myself, but they are so overdone. Everyone seems to pair there OC/SI/CO/Minato with one of those two, and I wanted to be different [P.S. love the Minato/Karasuba pairing myself]. So, do you want them?**

 **That's about all I can grasp off the top of my head so...Thanks for writing/reading.**

 **SEE YOU SOON, SPACE COWBOY**


	3. Chapter 3

High in the sky above Shinto Teito, there was only terror.

Salarymen, pages and even muscled security guards scurried in panic as a lone figure marched through the upper floor of MBI's offices. The click-clack of high heeled shoes was the only warning some received before a virtual hurricane swept by them, screaming orders and asserting dominance as if she was a Tyrant from the Stone Age.

Sahashi Takami was not experiencing the best day of her life. She had been wrenched away from her work by the insistent ringing of her cell phone, its loathsome tone indicating something had gone horribly wrong _somewhere_ , again. The fact that the Idiot would force her to fix it only added to her ire. She reached into her pocket and extracted a cigarette, relishing the rush of nicotine more then she should have.

"Ah, excellent." Said white coated idiot as she entered the boardroom. "Now that Takami is here we may being. Please, take a seat dear."

Resisting the urge to throttle her employer, she instead walked with dignity to the designated seat as head of the science team assigned to the Sekirei. The first seat to the left, it provided ample opportunity to hit Minaka with a clipboard (who had sat himself at the front of the table, the pompous ass) if he digressed from business, which was often.

Across from her was long time MBI retainer, Raiga Fujimura. The brown haired lawyer was the head of MBI's legal firm and had joined on the company a mere two years after it's founding. Adorn in a rather plain black business suit, his sharp features gave him the air of militarism, an impression reinforced by his strict adherence to business edict. As law didn't concern her, Takami hadn't interacted with the man much outside these board meetings.

She couldn't trust him.

Seated immediately to her left was Natsuo Ichinomi, the proud head of the pharmaceutical department. A loyal employee, he had returned from a six month sabbatical just this week. Apparently, his lover had died in a certain incident back in America and the younger man had nearly snapped in grief. But he was back now, his charismatic smile and well-groomed face giving him the illusion that he was no worse for wear.

Takami didn't know if she could trust him.

Chatting amicably with Ichinomi was Takami's former college roommate, the ever distractible Tsukihime Souka. The poor girl had managed to lose all her pens, if the tone of her voice was any indication, and would likely misplace her notes as well in a few short minutes. More than once these meetings had ground to a halt as the table was forced to wait as she located her records, but Takami's old friend had a good handle on numbers, making her invaluable.

She could be trusted.

The last of the present board members was the head of the human resource department, Mikasa Busujima. The rather normal woman didn't boast the unparalleled intellect that the other present members were blessed with, but she performed her job with a dogged determination that more than earned the head scientists respect. She was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a rather engaging conversationalist and seemed full of excited tales of distant lands.

Takami wished she could be trusted.

Staring forlornly at the two empty seats that sat at the end of the table, one for the head of the Disciplinary Squad and one for the Head of Security, Takami took a slow breath before settling herself fully into her seat.

"Welcome, Welcome Everyone!" Minaka shouted from besides her. "Let's get started with going over the weekend accounts? Busujima, if you would be so bold?"

Seeing the CHRO nod in the affirmation, the white haired women allowed her mind to drift as the meeting got fully underway. Normally, she was very attentive to the internal affairs of the company she had literally bled for, but there were more pressing matters on her mind. Like the brewing crisis that could possibly result in the entire destruction of the Sekirei plan.

And it all came down to trust. In the course of six months, the very foundations of MBI had been shaken to the core, leaving even lower level employees aware that some colossal changes had occurred within the company. In a way, the current status of the chief officers served as a metaphor of the company itself, capable of showing how grim the situation truly was.

Of the eight officers, two were entirely absent. The Head of Security had left to attend a meeting oversees eight months ago and had simply vanished, leaving the majority of the board to assume the man was dead. The Head of the Disciplinary Squad, who was rather close to the man, had immediately made moves to allocate him, but all approaches proved fruitless. Now she made it to a meager one in four meetings, but even when the alien was present physically, it was clear her mind was very distant.

Three of the remaining six executives were known to be absolutely loyal to the company. Takami, Minaka and Tsukihime had been involved, in some form or another, with this venture since the beginning. Their aim of helping the Sekirei had been the clear and only goal of every operation they had undertaken for the last twenty years and more. They had sacrificed family, hobbies and creature comforts to make it this far and were willing to burn to see it through.

On the other end of the spectrum, represented by Raiga and Mikasa, were the suspected HYDRA dogs. They were 'technically' part of the company, but they really worked for other, independent businesses that had been contracted in under MBI's employ. These companies, which had so thoroughly integrated themselves into MBI's infrastructure that they could no more remove them than remove themselves, had been acquisitioned using a series of business cards provided by one 'Neat Man'.

As such, they served only the Serpent Society or HYDRA or SHIELD or whatever they were going by these days, which seemed to be 'fractured and running scared'. Although the main bulk of their forces had been utterly demolished at the Battle of Washington by Captain America, there were holdouts. Some of those holdouts used there advance technology to become local warlords, which usually led to becoming Avenger bait.

The clever ones, however, became leeches. Attaching themselves to healthy host companies and pledging vengeance at a later date, they sucked the manpower of the company dry and brainwashed the youth to their new world order.

Youth that were represented by the young Ichinomi. They had been recruited from all blocks of life but the new blood shared one important trait. Raw talent. Takami was proud to say the company practically vibrated with it, an advantage of having the 'pick of the litter', so to speak, of college graduates throughout the entirety of Asia.

However, these youth had been corrupted. Every second they had spent loyally serving MBI, they had been exposed to HYDRA influence. In most cases it had been subtle, unnoticeable. But the researcher knew that sometimes these influences became overt, pushing employees into the hands of evil. With the reveal that of the Serpent Society in Washington, these youngsters were confronted with a choice.

Stay loyal to MBI or fall to the subtle corruption that had long plagued them.

So that was where they stood in this whole debacle. A fourth of the company was severally hemorrhaged by HYDRA's revel, another fourth firmly in the terrorist group's pocket. Of the remaining half, the old guard stood strong but risked falling due to the inconsistency of the youth that was rising to replace them.

Like the legend of Icarus, MBI had rose to the sky above, only to find their wings were made of wax. It remained to be seen if they fell or not. Takami, not an optimist by any means, firmly felt the former. Once all the Sekirei plan was realized, there would be nothing to hold the company together. They would fall as quickly as they had risen.

"Then let's move on to the most important point of all! Takami, dearest," the scientist twitched her hand to the reinforced steel clipboard sitting before her. "Tell us, have any little birds gotten their wings?"

Rolling her eyes, the white haired scientist merely shook her head slowly. "It's been over two weeks since we released Group Five, only a handful remain unwinged. Most have gone to ground now, but we're monitoring them closely." She paused, actually reading the clipboard this time. "Other than that, no activity."

"Disappointing," Minaka tsked. "But I do believe that conc-"

"Are you sure?" A calm voice rang, interrupting the CEO.

Silence fell on the meeting room, all eyes turning to look at Raiga Fujimura questioningly. It was rather rare for the composed man to speak on matters not directly related to his field, and even rarer for him to speak out of turn. No doubt his military past coming to the forefront.

Meeting his gaze, Takami merely raised an eyebrow. "Sure of what?"

"That there were no wingings yesterday?" The man said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his eyes appearing dull to his fellow peers.

Needless to say, Takami didn't see it that way. "I can assure you, Raiga, that there were no wingings yesterday." Pausing, she continued. "I have one job, and that is to keep track of all Sekirei in Shinto Teito. I would know." The last sentence came out much more forcefully than she anticipated, but the lead researcher was not a fan of having her facts questioned. She had people for that, not HYDRA lackeys.

"I meant no offense to you, Miss Sahashi." The man said, somehow making the sentence sound condescending. "I'm sure you have all the aliens in town on a tight leash. There's only a hundred or so, it would be hard for anyone to misplace them." Sweeping his hand down the table, the man nodded to the empty chairs at its end. "But not all the aliens are in the city or, at least, you don't think they are."

"The head of the Disciplinary Squad," Takami responded with a tone that could freeze any normal human. "Is conducting company business with her second in command in America, we are in constant contact with them and their trackers are operating on the latest hardware. I doubt we need worry about those two being winged, for obvious reasons."

Nodding his head empathetically, the lawyer talked on. "But what if there was a Sekirei that didn't have a tracker? What if they had escaped your watchful eyes and been on the run until recently? Certainly, that particular case has no precedence?"

"Oh?" Minaka broke the growing tension in the room with a chuckle. "You speak as if you have something to share with the class, my bookish friend."

"Funny you should say such," Tsukihime began shivering as a predatory smile cross the man's face. "As I happened to have a recording here that is worth some thought."

Producing a video player from his briefcase, the occupants of the room gathering shoulder-to-shoulder to witness the suitably grainy footage. The brief clip, taken from what appeared to be a security camera, showed a homeless man sitting on a bench. His features obscured by a baseball cap and secondhand work attire, he was joined shortly thereafter by a skimpily dress woman, who proceeded to have a (inaudible) conversation with the man.

The head researcher's eyes were immediately drawn to the women, dismissing the bum outright. At the risk of sounding stereotypical, the women certainly looked like at Sekirei, judging solely on physique and dress style. It had long been a theory amongst those involved in 'alien relations' that certain base genetic traits in the species had been either evolved or been deliberately modified to make the species much more shameless, likely to help secure the reciprocal attraction of their Ashikabi once winging had actually happened. This most often manifested in a taste for revealing clothing, amorous speech and, of course, the near zealot like devotion to their charge.

"I don't recall any swordsmen's in group five."

"That's because there weren't any." Eyes narrowed, the group allowed the rest of the scene to play out in silence. Only when the women literally tackled the man did the heavy silence cease, followed by gasps as the enviable Sekirei wings flew from the ground.

"We lose the video here," Raiga said with a shrug, freezing the footage mid-kiss. "A localized Earthquake knocked out most electronics in the area, leaving us no clues as to the aftermath." The man's eyes turned to Takami, judging silently as the group settled back into their seats.

"Can we confirm it's a Sekirei?" Mikasa said slowly, thoughtfully. "There are a number of groups that I encountered in my travels that could…"

The lawyer interrupted her, his voice heated. "Don't be absurd. That," He gestured to the screen, his past as an orator coming to the forefront. "Is one of ours, without a doubt! And I want to know how one of our assets is not in the system!"

"Don't refer to them so callously, Raiga." Tsukihime charmed with an awkward smile, no doubt summoning no small amount of courage to respond. "Some of them are quiet pleasant when you get to know them."

A nasty sneer crossed the accused face, a retort sharp on his tongue before he was cut off by his employer. More specifically, his employer's tumult laughter that drew all eyes on the room squarely unto him.

"Well," the CEO said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Well, well, well. It looks like our prodigal son has returned triumphant! Or should I say daughter!" Jumping out of his seat, the man was halfway to the door in seconds. "There's so much to do! I must introduce myself to this new Ashikabi. He shall be one to watch, I can feel it!" And just like that, he was gone.

"Professor! Excuse me, Professor!" Mikasa shouted to the now empty doorway. "And he's gone."

"Get him back then!" Raiga said, already reaching for the phone, no doubt to get security to return the wayward CEO. "I still have questions!"

"The idiots probably not in the building anymore," Takami couldn't help but mummer, running a tired hand over her face. "Damn hidden elevators." Steeling herself, Takami snatched the phone away from the lawyer. Ignoring his protests, she dialed an extension and placed the phone to her ear. "Yes, I need an update on the Disciplinary Squad." A pause as she absorbed the response. "Understood."

Returning the phone to its crib, she frowned heavily, trying to formulate a plan.

"Ahhh, Sahashi-sensei?" The young head of the pharmaceutical department ventured, looking unsure. "Why would we need the Disciplinary squad?"

"It's simple really," she replied in monotone. "Leaving a single-number unmonitored has the potential to disrupt the entire Sekirei plan. We will need to bring both the Sekirei and the Ashikabi in and ensure there cooperation with the plan."

"Single-number?" Tsukihime said, before realization dawned on her. "I thought number five was terminated?"

"Officially? Yes. Number five suffered catastrophic damage during some late adjustments several months after the first invasion of Kamikura Island." Pausing, she took a long pull of nicotine before continuing. "Unofficially, number five has been on the run from MBI since his escape from our custody several years ago." Turing mechanically, she nodded at the head of the legal department. "Congratulations, Raiga. You accomplished more in fifteen minutes then this company has in over ten years."

"Wait one second," The aforementioned man said, his eyes alight with what was unmistakably rage. "There's been a rouge Sekirei wandering around the world for years? And we weren't notified!"

"You mean HYDRA wasn't notified?" Takami said, standing from her seat. "No, it was company business, not yours." Turing, the head scientist began walking to the exit, pausing only to snap her finger at Natsuo. "Walk with me."

The head of the pharmaceutical department paused only a moment before scrambling to follow his superior. Shuffling his papers into a shoulder bag, he sprinted to catch up to the white hair women who walked at a not inconsiderate speed.

"I don't have time to ask this delicately," She said, not even turning to look him in the eye as the marched down endless offices. "So I'll be direct. Are you well?"

"I am."

She snorted, pretending to ignore the way his voice went monotone at his answer. "You went through the mandatory three week self-defense program under Frost, correct?"

"And the optional weapons course." Seeing the researchers raised eyebrows, Natsuo elaborated. "Toriumi had a thing for him, some sort of hero-worship that I never got to the bottom of." Pausing, he smiled sadly. "He also thought it would be good bonding."

"Okay," Takami replied, seeming to mull over the information as the pair entered an elevator. Instead of pushing one of the many buttons, she extracted a keychain and twisted one of its many keys into its appropriate keyhole. "I need you to oversee the Disciplinary Squad for this mission."

The young widow visibly startled, turning to gape at the impeccable scientist with an expression not unlike a fish. Realizing his blunder, he visibly regained control of his emotions, allowing a monotone mask to come over his face in second before nodding stiffly.

An exhausted sigh found its way from her lips. "You have something to say, say it. Tomorrows too late."

"I…" The man paused, before steeling himself. "The Disciplinary Squad was never intended to operate under someone other than the Commander. Frost trained them personally to act under his command, or baring that follow his well-crafted support structure." He seemed to lose steam, shrugging slightly. "They will not follow me. Nor do they need me."

"First, Frost is…indisposed." Neither chose to comment on the obvious fact that 'dead' would be the far more appropriate term, as a man doesn't disappear from a dream job like MBI's one his own volition. "Secondly, the lead Sekirei are on 'special mission', in America. We don't have the luxury to wait for their return. Thirdly, they can't be deployed alone, especially in this First Phase. We need a sense of tact, something aliens have historically lacked."

The young pharmaceutical head couldn't disagree with any of the points his employer had made. However, he had no desire to get involved in the more 'extraterrestrial' part of MBI's business, for several reasons. Not the least of which was the fact that pervious human interaction with alien lifeforms resulted in the near total destruction of New York.

The Chitauri had turned out to be just one more reason for the Japanese company to hide the existence of aliens from the general public. As close to 95% of the human population's only interaction with aliens was watching in mute terror as a series of reptilian invades deconstructed The City that Never Sleeps, it would probably be pandemonium if the general public discovered that 108 of them had been living right under their nose.

The governments of the world, or there overseers at least, thankfully had the guile to act similarly. Plus, at the time the MBI-HYDRA alliance still appeared to be strong, the former German military offshoot running interference within SHIELD to minimize both public and governmental information on the Sekirei.

Natsuo didn't qualify it as racism, per say, more like well justified paranoia of a physically superior race. It would be idiotic, in his opinion, not to fear them and keep a wise amount of digression between them.

There was another reason, one much more primal. He knew that existing in the same space as Sekirei practically invited risk, risk of the emotional sort. From what little he of the species, is was possible one would wish to 'contract' with him, to connect emotionally.

For some that would be a blessing, but Natsuo could see no worse fate. Even if he lied to himself, he was still grieving for the loss of his true partner, the one he had promised to spend his life with. To allow one of the heartsick aliens into his soul would be nothing less than a betrayal, pure and simple. And he was loyal, loyal to his family and his company.

He voice neither of these things, of course. His reservations would sound shallow and juvenile if physically voiced. Best keep them in the mind, where they could thrive and grow unhindered by the sharp criticisms of reality.

"I see." He said, unable to find a suitable counter. "If that's what the company asks of me, it would be my honor."

"Your confidence inspires me." Came the deadpan reply as the elevator finally arrived at its intended destination. "As we still don't have a solid location on number five, you'll have some time to meet the team. Follow me."

Stepping out of the elevator, the widower couldn't help but notice the difference a couple floors made in the level of luxury present within the sprawling clock tower. Instead of the drab and frankly generic offices that permeated the lower floors, this level was richly decorated in a distinctly European fashion. Plush sofas and chairs sat in a rough semi-circle, owing to the large tinted windows that allowed one nearly full view of the cityscape.

The sun was rising, he couldn't help but note. The rays of light causing long shadows to stretch across the skyline, creating a beautiful contrast between the morning glow and the last vestiges of night.

He dismissed the view as worthless.

The various weapon racks lining the wall, however, were not. Weapon racks line the walls, holding a hodgepodge of both archaic and modern weaponry. They appeared to be ordered haphazardly, but a second glance reveled there was some ordering to the process, if an indeterminate one. A fine sheen of dust had built on the firearms, dulling the gleam that the swords and spears wore proudly.

More importantly, however, was that sitting in the center of the room were two women. Natsuo didn't even have to guess that they were aliens as he approached, it was fairly easy to tell, seeing as they had the Sekirei crest smattered all over there clothing and had a certain unearthly beauty to them.

"Ugh, why do you always get up so early Haihane?" The one on the left said as she glared at her companion, her posture relaxed as rested against one leather loveseats. "You don't even do anything besides sit and look out the window."

The speaker was young looking, having the appearance of a late teens or early twenty year old human. Long pink hair was pulled tightly over her shoulder, held by two plastic clips that resembled flowers. Her black kimono appeared to have been specially modified to show of her (rather long) legs, leaving it to some black biker shorts to protect her modesty.

The most distinctive feature about her was the large bow, pink like here hair, which she had wrapped around her waist like an impromptu belt. It contrasted nicely with the white, bird-like crest on the lapels of her jacket, the unofficial symbol of Sekirei as a whole.

"I'm waiting." The other women replied in monotone, her raspy tone making it hard to decipher the meaning of her reply. Unlike her companion, she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees in a position that could only be described as 'fragile'.

As her back was too the humans, Natsuo couldn't get a good look at her face, but the fact that she had wrapped her body in bandages caught his eye immediately. Other than the wrappings, a nearly shredded blue kimono hung from her shoulders, seemingly identical to her partners excluding the obvious wear. A studded metal collar rounded off her wear, even though it was hidden from sight by her gray hair.

Coming to a halt behind the two, Takami cleared her throat loudly. Had circumstances been otherwise, Natsuo would have laughed as they jumped into the air, limbs flaying in surprise. They recovered quickly however, turning to face the human's mid-air in an expert display of aerobatics.

They both relaxed when they saw it was the head researcher, both falling into what could only in the loosest possible sense a 'parade stance' before giving equally sloppy salutes. Natsuo raised an eyebrow curiously, nonplussed at the action. The fact they saluted at all, to an 'inferior species' no less, indicated that these two where of a different breed.

"Ahh, hello Important Person Sahashi." The blue one, who Natsuo noticed had grown her hair over her left eye, said with a forced casualness. "Can we, uhh, help you?"

"Like you're capable of helping anything." The pink one muttered under her breath.

"At least I'm not a washboard."

The shriek that erupted from the pink one left the only male in the room clutching his ears in pain. He quickly reevaluated the usefulness of these two from 'cautiously optimistic' to 'potential health hazard'. As the ringing subsided, he could help but favor his sensei an incredulous look.

She seemed to be regretting the decision herself. "This was so much easier when I didn't have to deal with the squad directly." Rubbing the bridge of her nose, glared at the two aliens. "Listen up!"

The squabbling that had erupted quickly ceased as the two looked at her with wide eyes. "Get the rest of the squad, you have a mission."

For one long moment, the two stood silently, a blank expression on both their faces. Then slowly, stiffly, the pink one made a slow nod before turning and walking mechanically to a side doorway. She disappeared without a word.

The blue one, Haihane he recalled, merely stood with a dull expression fixed on her face, looking at the head researcher intently. She met her gaze just as blandly, their eyes seeming to have a conversation that the young pharmaceutical head was not privy to. Apparently, Takami won the debate, as Haihane turned swiftly and looked out over the window again, this time with a glare marring her features.

Attempting to ease the sudden tension that had settled on the room, Natsuo took the opportunity to ask for some clarification on his mission. "Sahashi-sensei, how many Sekirei will I be working with?"

"The squad usually consists of eight, nine if you add a human operator, so you'll be working with the remaining six."

"Eight? Is that not a bit…," he frowned, searching for the right word. "Excessive?" That represented close to a tenth of all existing Sekirei, after all. That many powerful beings working under one directive easily created a power that could rival a medium sized country's military. It was doubtful that a single Ashikabi could gather enough of the remaining hundred fighters to form an effective fighting force against such odds, even if they used such methods as 'forced winging's'.

Approaching it from another angle, a group of single Ashikabi would do no better. Even if, say, 20 Ashikabi confederated in an attempted to fight the squad, they would still be crushed. The group would lack the necessary coordination, for one. Also, since members of the Disciplinary Squad had adjustments far above the average double and triple digits, a disciplinary member could take the nearly three to one odds and still emerge victorious.

"I know that look," His musing were rather abruptly ended by his superior. "You're curious as to why we need eight when three would do?" Wordlessly, he nodded. She chuckled in response, looking off into some distant memory. "I used to think that too. Then I was shown that we are part of a larger world."

His distaste at her vagueness must have shown on his face as she elaborated a moment later. "It's an easy day when a Disciplinary member has to fight a Sekirei. Often times," she frowned, shrugging slightly. "They deal with threats much more…varied."

Like HYDRA, he supposed.

"At one point, we only had two members," she continued. "But after the clusterfu-, I mean the unfortunate business with numbers 88 and 87, we decided a larger squad was needed."

There was a story there, Natsuo deducted, but he decided not to pry. The less he was involved in this alien business, the better. Once this mission was done, he wanted to walk away from this farce and return to hoping the world would die in a fireball. Well, it didn't have to be a fireball, as long as the world was destroyed.

Speaking about returning unscathed. "I won't be expected to wing them, will I?"

Surprisingly, it was the glaring Haihane that answered. "No. We might fight with you, not for you."

"What Haihane means to say," Takami said as she glared reproachfully at the irate alien. "Is that the Disciplinary Squad are all incapable of being winged."

A brow raised on the male's face, his mind quickly coming to the most logical conclusion. "They are all scrapped numbers?"

Haihane literally started growling, her natural rasping tone making the sound actually cause Natsuo to lose composer for a moment. The noise dead off after a moment, but he could tell he had made some sort of serious faux pas. Or perhaps it was something else? His mere presence acting as a lightning rod for negative emotions that had been mixing in the Sekirei before him. He couldn't think of any other action to justify such a chilly reception.

"If there were eight scrapped numbers that occurred on my watch," the head researcher responded firmly. "I wouldn't have this job. No, they have inhibiters."

"Inhibiters?"

"Every member of the Disciplinary Squad has them," She nodded sharply to the large collar looped around Haihane's neck. "They interfere with the psychic abilities of the Sekirei, preventing them from actively searching for their Ashikabi's presence. We had some designed for human use too, but they disappeared several months back."

"That's…surprising." Based on what little he knew of Sekirei, he would assume that being cut-off from find there destined one would be higher than the worst agony. Based on revelations released in the boardroom earlier today, he assumed that Sekirei would rather go rouge then ignore the biological imperative to find a 'destined one'.

"We owe a debt to MBI," The only alien in the room responded, her single visible eye looking at him intently. "They trained us and clothed us when that could have used us instead. If I need to postpone finding my Ashikabi to pay back that debt, it's worth it."

"And it has absolutely nothing to do with the absolutely bitchin' reward!" A boisterous voice, followed by the slamming of the door, drew the trio's attention away from each other and towards the doorway to the sleeping quarters.

Three new alien's filed through the doorway, followed closely by the pink one from earlier.

The speaker, smiling broadly as she strolled confidently into the room, waved cheekily in his direction. She was rather tall, he noted, towering over her peers who were relatively diminutive. Her long legs were on full display owing to her wearing bloomers, the pale expanse of skin only broken by a bold tattoo which read '19'. Despite her cheerful demeanor her short black hair stuck up in various directions and Chinese shirt (which featured the Disciplinary Squads logo proudly) hung half buttoned, indicated she had just woken up.

"Number 19, Ikki reporting!" she finished, leaping onto the couch with no small degree of grace.

"The reward is all that matters." The second one replied, snorting haughty. "Those who can't protect themselves don't deserve to be protected." Turing, her brown eyes captured the young pharmaceutical head in her sights. "Don't think I'm in this for a cause, creep. I'll do my time and then," She slide her gloved hand across her neck. "I'm out."

In contrast to the uniformed look of the other three, this one clearly had on casual clothing. As in most things, 'casual clothing' for a Sekirei had translated differently than the human norm. White opera gloves and black stockings that reached mid-thigh seemed to be in, apparently. The black Chinese dress with a yellow strip which matched her hair gave Natsuo the fleeting desire to compare her to a honeybee for a moment, but he repressed it.

"Oh, don't be such a meanie Mitsuha-chan!" Ikki, apparently unable to sit still for the moment, said as she leaped out of her seat. Bounding over to the now identified Mitsuha, she looped an arm around her and the final Squad member's neck. "You know you would miss me and Nanaha-chin if you left."

"Unhand me this instant!"

The final member endured the jostling silently, a scared little frown covering the contours of her soft face. She was obviously a quiet soul, judging from appearance alone. She was the most put-together of the five extraterrestrials, wearing a rather normal red skirt with a cream colored top which showed her shoulders. Black stockings like her peers rounded into brown combat boots, which contrasted oddly with the number of high-heels the others wore. She also had cut-off orange sleeves which covered the entirety of her hand, creating an interesting contrast.

"Knock it off Ikki," the remaining pink one said from the sidelines, shouting into what was quickly becoming an impromptu wrestling match. "Sahashi-san wants to talk to us."

"You're not the boss of me!"

"Ladies…" Takami started, flicking the ash off her ever-present cigarette.

"I am the boss of you! When Karasuba is gone…"

"I'll never take orders from my junior!"

"If you don't let go of me this instant I will destroy you!"

"Ladies…" The head researcher raised her voice, only to get shouted down once more.

"Junior? What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh, Christmas bow wants to fight. Go get you little gloves and you might be a challenge!"

"Are you ignoring me? I can't believe your ignoring me."

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Takami shouted over the growing chaos. "Disciplinary Squad, Weapons check!"

The result was instantons. The sounds of shouting and scuffling were replaced with quick steps as the squad members aligned themselves in front of the two humans, hands behind there back in parade rest. Backs straight and tall, the women look straight ahead, appearing like they were professional solders about to be inspected by a superior officer. And perhaps they were, Natsuo allowed.

"I hate that." The single mother mumbled to herself before raising her voice. "Listen up! We have a dissident single number on the loose. Your job is to bring her and her Ashikabi back her, _alive and unharmed_ , got it?"

A chorus of affirmations met her question, getting a brief nod from the scientist before continuing. "This is Natsuo Ichinomi, head of our pharmaceutical department." At this, her eyes turned fierce. "You will follow his lead on this mission."

Stepping forward, Natsuo bowed slightly. "Ah, please take care of me."

"I'll have more details for you all shortly." Turing, he was already halfway to the elevator before Natsuo even straightened his back. "Be ready to move."

And then she was gone, leaving Natsuo alone in a soundproof room with five alien warriors who were looking at him with a mix of curiosity, intrigue and outright hostility.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Sometimes, he wished the world would just burn.

 **XxX**

There was something different about his morning. Something she couldn't quite wrap her sleep addled mind around as she woke at an abnormally late hour. She had awoken fully clothed, devoid of any of the soft pajamas she had decided to treat herself to. For some reason that mattered little to her, as did the absence of the sword that had always stood vigil by her futon as she slept. There was something in her soul, some feeling of fullness that just seemed to promise illumination in her dark life…what was it?

Even a cold shower calmed her nerves and awakened her, the feeling refused to go away. It even seemed to affect her physically, her step just a touch lighter and her head held higher than normal. What was it? What had happened?

Stumbling out of the bedroom of her small apartment, she walked down the narrow corridor to her kitchen. She was actually rather proud of her acquisition of this property, as it was all acquired above board using clean, traceable funds that were connected to one of her strongest cover identities. As such, she had actually put a modicum of effort into making this safe house more a home, adding some modern appliances and even paintings.

She even knew the neighbors names, quite a feat if she would say so herself.

"Good morning."

Startled by the abrupt voice, Mutsu jolted backwards, arm reaching for a sword that wasn't there. The apartment faded into blackness the background, her eyes swiveling, focusing on the speaker with absolute intensity.

Her heart skipped a beat.

He was sitting at the kitchen table. The man she had spent close to twenty years of her life searching for. The man she had been told over and over didn't exist, the whispers of his name merely a legend to scare spies around the globe. Because how could one man kill so many, over such a long period of time? And how could that same man be her 'distended one', the master to her servant?

He looked the exact same as the day he met her. Well, he seemed weaker, perhaps. No, weaker was the incorrect word. His face was less sharp, his eyes wandering. More disheveled, which was quite a feat considering the last time she saw him he had just been buried by her small earthquake. But his face still wore that sad, lost expression that he had yesterday.

Memories from that day came crushing down, throwing whatever vestiges of sleep that remained after her shower to the wayside. Her knees almost buckled as the rush of emotions hit her full force, the mixture of disbelief, anxiety and pure bliss causing her stoic demeanor to almost crumble.

"How are you here?"

He blinked slowly, putting down a dirty rag and shiny barrel on her kitchen table, which she noticed was full with similarly shiny metal pieces. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a key. Her key, she realized as he placed it on the tip of the table closest to her.

"I made you my mission."

She swallowed, approaching him slowly, carefully, as if he was a rare animal that might turn and flee from her at any moment. In a way, he was.

She reached down, picking up the key and fiddling it nervously between her fingers, finding herself relishing the warmth the metal held. Taking a breath, she looked up and into his eyes. Such beautiful eyes.

Bowing low, she spoke. "Welcome home, Ashikabi-sama."

 **XxX**

Home?

Noun: The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

He knew of homes, of course, but only in the abstract. The closest he had to a home was the freezer, the metal coffin he was stuffed into in-between missions. For some reason he doubted the average civvie would qualify that as a place of homeliness and he was inclined to agree with them.

The last time he (him, yet not him) had something close to a home was in 1940, according to his personal files. The other him was apparently the oldest of four children, working a variety of small jobs across Brooklyn to provide an apartment for them and _that_ man. Then he was drafted and home became an abstract concept to fight for, not a physical location.

At least, he thought Barnes thought that way. Barnes memories still eluded him, a vague and unrecognizable blob in the distance.

So, without Barnes memories and without HYDRA's orders, he had to forge a new path. And he supposed that his place could be his first step.

"James." He blurted, before wincing.

"James?" she echo, rising from the bow. She frowned, before smiling slightly. "Is that your name?"

"I…really don't know." He answered honestly, looking down at his metal arm, just a hint ruthful. "It should be, I think."

"You don't know your name." She asked, tilting her head to the side before slowly descending into the other empty seat. She leant her elbows on her table, leaning forward to look at his face that was mostly hidden by his hair. "Okay, that doesn't matter. I am Number Five, Mutsu."

"Doesn't matter?" he parroted, half-remembered social conventions dancing through his head. "Wouldn't that matter?"

She shrugged, looking down at the field of metal pieces that spread before her. "Not especially. I am your Sekirei, regardless of the name you choose."

"'And I will serve you faithfully, now and forevermore.' I remember."

"I mean it." Her eyes locked on his with a freighting intensity, her body leaning closer to his in what seemed to be a physical attempt at reinforcing her sincerity. "From this point on all I own is yours. Your tasks are my tasks, and your enemies are my enemies." Reaching her hand forward, the appendage hovered over his indecisively, no doubt an internal battle raging over whether such physical conduct would be accepted. "I have sworn myself to your side."

It spoke of James's state of mind when the first thought he registered in response to her devotion was not one of affection, but a growing since of apprehension. She was absolutely sincere, he recognized, fully willing to give all for him despite them merely meeting yesterday. On a human he would have quickly characterized her as suffering from some mental illness or a childlike dependence, but he already knew she did not identify herself as a member of his race.

And he could confirm that, whatever she was, she was above baseline human. Above him, and even _that man_ as well, if merely in terms of physical strength. That made her dangerous even if she wasn't a master swordswomen he suspected her to be, based on the calluses on her hands and the blade he had place reverently on the kitchen counter.

He had just been handed a loaded weapon and told he had complete discretion in its use, even though he lacked training, will and basic knowledge of its operation. In that case, he only had two options. The first, and the safest, was to discard the weapon with all haste. He was just as likely to hurt himself as the weapon, which would stop the mission.

 _'Survival imperative for success'_ A little voice rang throughout the confines of his mind. _'Eliminate threats to continued existence.'_

He got that, he comprehended the danger. But, as it stood, she was currently the only lead he had towards his identity. If he were to harm her (assuming he could, owing to an injured state of mind and lack of equipment), all leads he had on his primary mission would be burned to the ground. Not a terribly large loss, he admitted. He was still at the city with the clock tower, he could dispose of her and resume his search via that lead in relatively short order.

But…such would be betrayal. That didn't sit well with him, somehow. Perhaps it was the last glimmers of Bucky Barnes shining through or even HYDRA's programing for absolute obedience, but he would not betray something like…like…

In Lenin's name, when did his life become a dime store novel?

"I accept your offer, Mutsu. I will be your Ashikabi."

A smile spilled onto her face, her hand finally descending into his own. She had gamble the odds on his refusal and her faith had been rewarded. James decided to ignore the urge to pull his hand away, letting her revel in her victory.

"Thank you, James-sama." The mere mention his name seemed to brighten her eyes. "Please, do not hesitate to correct anything to fit your expectations."

Blinking twice, James let his hand drop from hers before raising it to scratch the back of his head at the odd request. "I suppose I'm slightly worried about you getting pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?" She said, her eyes showing confusion at his odd request. "Why would you be concerned about that?"

"It is currently," Pausing, he extracted a plain, unadorned smartphone from his pocket, thumbing the switch on and looking carefully at the screen. "910 local time. The sun has not been out long, making it slightly cold to the baseline human."

"I see? And what does that have to do with me?"

"Well," James paused, wishing he had the people skills Bucky was so renounce for. "It is unwise to walk around such a climate while wet and," he made a fleeting motion with his human hand. "Exposed."

"Exposed?" she parroted, searching for the meaning of his words. Meeting her gaze, he gestured to his chest, causing her to look down.

And quickly recognize the fact she was wearing nothing. Nothing at all, not even the towel she was wearing when she had marched out of the shower to make breakfast. Her facial expression freezing, she turned her head slowly before finding the traitorous article lying on the floor, forgotten in the morning's excitement.

Just as gently, she turned her head back to the face of her Ashikabi, seeing him looking at her with bright blue eyes and one eyebrow faintly raised.

"Eep!" With a speed that impressed even the Winter Solder, she sprinted out of the kitchen. Distantly, he heard the slamming of a door, indicating she had likely barricade herself in her room out of embarrassment.

Shrugging, the newly christened 'James' returned to his field strip of his Škorpion, checking over every piece methodically for the slightest defects before returning them to the frame. He could get his answers later, so he would use the time she given him productively. Tapping the screen of his phone carefully, he used muscle memory to find and download a basic app that connected him to police radio frequencies.

Time to get a feel for this city.

 **XxX**

He had managed to clean both his guns and all three of his knives twice before the young women managed to find the courage to return to the kitchen, fully clothed this time. Face bright red, she stood at the edge of the door a good five minutes looking anywhere but at him before entering.

In what he suspected was an attempt to end the awkwardness radiating from her frame, she had offered to make him coffee. He had accepted, partially because he thought it would be rude not to and partially because his 'Sekirei' need something to distract her mind from the mornings episode.

The questions about 'cream' and 'sugar' baffled him slightly, but he assured her that they were not necessary. Even more mysterious was the strange machine she used to make the drink, however. It involved a small cup-like plastic container, placed in a machine that appeared to hold some form of water reservoir. Using a display, she tapped several buttons on the side before pushing the larger one.

The aroma was familiar to him, or his body at least. His month watered at the sight of the mud colored drink, instinctively seeking its warmth. At the first sip, his body almost folded in onto itself, the pleasure making him nearly go cross-eyed.

He suspected she noticed, as a half-smile of her own crossed her face before quickly fleeing.

If he had known what accepting the drink would bring, he might have abstained. The acceptance of the drink served as the catalyst for that most dangerous of enterprises.

Conversation. "So you found the key in my pocket. Then you used the logo on the back to find my apartment complex." He had nodded empathetically, his attention more focused on the rush of energy the drink spread down to his toes. "Dropped me in my bed. And then went and bought a phone."

"Not bought," he replied. "Acquisitioned."

"I don't understand."

He exhaled slowly. Civvies. "Acquisitioning involves the identification of mission critical goods, followed by their prompt and immediate…" He paused, tongue juggling over the words. "Acquisition?"

"Acquisitioning without paying is stealing, Ashikabi-sama." Her voice held the distinct tone adults used to explain something to a particularly slow child.

James ignored it. "Acquisitioned."

"Fine, 'acquisitioned'." Raising her hands, she moved her index and middle finger in a gesture that James felt he should know, but was ultimately unimportant. "You will tell me the store later, I can leave them some money after they close." Looking over his mug, she raised an eyebrow. "And then you returned?"

"No," tapping the phone twice, he pulled up a mapping app that had come pre-installed. "Established a three-block safety perimeter and four possible escape routes." Pausing, he cleared his throat when he noted a slight Russian accent had enter his speech. "You picked a good location."

"Thank you," The women turned, removing another one of the smallish cups from a specially made rack and placing it in the machine. "Sounds tiring, however. Did you sleep well?"

"Sleep wasn't needed."

"'Wasn't needed'?" she parroted as she turned from the machine to face him fully, looking his appearance over critically. "You mean you didn't sleep at all?"

There was an odd tone in her voice that James really should have considered before answering, but the thought never occurred to him. "No."

"Sleep is important, Ashikabi-sama." Was her critical reply, a slight tone of chiding creeping into her voice.

"Yes." He nodded, noting his coffee cup was less than a quarter full. For shame. "An average of four hours per day is enough to operate under. Extra is just…" He tipped his cup at the ceiling. "Extraneous."

It was true, after all. There were frankly too many variables that could change if one engaged in frivolous sleeping. He shuttered at the thought of those poor souls who had perfectly mapped out an enemy base for months, only to retire to a twelve hour nap. What if new troops came in or patrols changed? They would miss them all. Besides, the extra hours could be used to ensure equipment upkeep and tighten security protocols.

He had a feeling with this divine beverage at his side, he could cut those four hours down to three.

"Four hours?" She leaned in close, staring at his face carefully. "You look exhausted, Ashikabi-sama, you should rest more." Turn, she moved her own cup of coffee out of the machine before reaching into one of the many selves that lined the kitchen, extracting a spoon. "If you don't have anything planned for today, you should rest."

He shook his head. "Assuming you allow me to remain here." She nodded her head fervently. "I need gain a better understand of MBI." Pausing, he tapped his forefinger onto the table softly. "And you."

"MBI?" A sneer form on her face, breaking through her stoic demeanor. "Do you have business with them?"

Filing away the fact that she apparently had some relation to MBI, he answered honestly. "I don't know."

Her face didn't change but James could feel that there were questions buzzing just under the surface. It was odd, he saw no change in body language or expression, yet he understood that his companion was unsatisfied by his answer. Like there was another sense that he had never felt before this moment and it somehow connected the two of them.

Was this a side effect of the supposed bond they shared? He had been 'calling' for her, apparently. Did that not imply some sort of connection that went above normalcy?

Normalcy, the analytical part of his mind note coolly, is worthless. He was playing with the wrong set of presumptions in regards to the girl in front of him, a dangerous path. He knew she wasn't human, she referred to herself as 'Sekirei' multiple times. But what was a 'Sekirei'? A mutant perhaps? She had displayed Geokinetic powers yesterday.

Yet she always spoke in the plural. Mutants could be separated in classes, yes, but only in the broadest sense, like power level. She implied there was a group who followed similar laws and even had developed a unique moral system that could label breakers 'insane'. Mutants didn't have that luxury, as each X-gene manifested differently, dividing them and thus preventing them from forming their own unique societies.

He needs more information.

Give some to take some. "I mentioned I was a tool, correct?" She nodded. "However, humans are rather poor tools. They desire…" He paused, trying to think of the word that had been stripped from him. "Things? Goals?" Unsatisfied, he shrugged. "This makes them uncontrollable. In order to be the ideal tool, these things had to be taken from me."

"So you could be controlled." Her acceptance made James relax, allowing the word that he was searched for to slip away. "How?"

"Intense mental conditioning." Somehow, his tone sounded cold even to him. "Most often in the form of memory suppression." Seeking to avoid questions before they arose, he spoke quickly. "This is why I told you I didn't know my name, it was taken from me. A combination of drugs, technology and telepathy were likely employed."

The nonhuman was quiet for a moment, moving to sit in the empty chair across from him, her eyes fixed tightly on the cup of coffee. Her brow was furled, her thoughts flashing through her eyes with a quickness that was rather impressive. "I spent six months in the Alps once, absolutely convinced you were a gun for hire." She said admitted absentmindedly. "That you had retired to seclusion after a life of debauchery. I found nothing. Then another three in Cuba, four in Brazil and nine in South Africa."

"Your tenacity does you credit." He felt there was something coming, that it would be wise to cut off the women here. He lacked the social graces however, leaving him stuck in his seat like a small child watching his teacher shout at one of his peers.

"The worst part was the questions," His comment overridden, she stood up abruptly, walking to the kitchen counter. "Did you know I was after you? Did you care? How many nights did that question keep me up? I couldn't begin to count. I figured that you had to know something, I wasn't being the most covert when I was searching for you. Were you ignoring me? Running from me?"

Something was wrong. That feeling had grown exponentially as she talked, an almost physical pressure coming with it. Silently, he stood, moving back from the table in a guarded stance that allowed him proper movement if she did anything dangerous. The new angle allowed him to see that she was running a hand over her sword, her eye narrowed.

She didn't notice. "You didn't know at all, did you? You say you were frozen, then brainwashed." Her mouth moved almost wordlessly, something like 'kept from me?'

"Yes." He allowed, raising his voice in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "But it's over now."

He didn't believe that, not one bit. But when an emotionally compromised superhuman began stroking a sword with narrowed eyes, you either defused the situation or ran to the extraction. There was, needless to say, no extraction.

"Those who did that to you, they are dead?"

"Да." It wasn't a total lie, not really. The current round of doctors (he had outlived the original staff, after all) had been some of James first victims. After failing to kill the target, he had wandered back to the bank safe house, lost and dazed. The memories of the man's words and the mental stress had caused him to fall into a rage when they tried to treat him. None had walked away. "Yes."

"Good." Nodding, she exhaled before turning, her eyes soft. "They deserved it."

He couldn't bring himself to disagree.

"How does MBI figure into this?"

Finally ending finish giving proper context, James nodded. "I have remembered three things from before the last wipe. You and that clock tower are two of those things."

"I was wondering why you would come to the new capital, of all places." She returned to her own coffee cup, likely long cold by now. "The air is rather foul here."

James blinked, confused. He hadn't noticed a toxin in the air or any corpse that could cause interference with the air quality. He supposed it didn't matter. He could find out such things during his patrol of the city at large.

"MBI," he started slow, probingly. "You know them?"

She blinked, looking at him oddly before understanding crossed her face. "I keep forgetting how little you know about us." She rubbed her head. "I apologize. I was so focused on finding you that I never considered the aftermath."

"Is this about you're non-human status?" James asked after a moment of consideration, and was promptly placed under the piercing gaze once again.

"I mentioned that, didn't I?" She said, her face filling with relief, before consternation entered her eyes once again. "You are okay with that?"

Long buried instincts echoed, asking him to lie. He ignored them. "It depends."

"Upon?" she asked, looking much wearier then she had earlier.

"Your nature." James eyes narrowed. He needed information to complete the mission. "You're not a mutant that much is clear. Unlikely to be Asgardian, owing to speech patterns. So…" He allowed his voice to take on a hint of Winter. "What are you?"

"I am your Sekirei." She answered without a hint of fear. "One of 108 beings that crossed the stars above to unite with our chosen ones here, on Earth."

Aliens then, how cliché, he thought before frowning at the very Bucky like thought. Shaking his head, he moved the thought to the back of his head, best to deal with that particular bombshell later. He need focus now.

"Then there is unlikely to be a problem," he said rather flippantly. "You came to Earth to find your Ashikabi and then serve them. Assuming this encompasses your nature, I see can see no reason to label you as a threat."

"And that," Mutsu winced in response. "Is the problem."

James suppressed a grimace, crossing his arms tightly. "Problem?"

"MBI has created a problem." She replied easily, mirroring his gesture. "When we land on this planet, we were in an embryotic state. Frozen…" James flinched slightly. "We waited until two humans found our ship and 'grew' us."

She continued. "After the first attack on Kamikura Island," She looked up from her arms, into his eyes. "The place where we first met, one of the humans went…off the rails." At this she exhaled heavily, looking into the distance. "I don't know what happened, I was distracted in those days, but what resulted was the extensive manipulation of the Sekirei genome."

"Manipulation?" He bristled, aware his own genes had been modified by forces outside his control. "For what purpose?"

"To be weaponized." She answered simply, a hint of steel creeping into her voice. "To fight other Sekirei in a great battle royal that would leave only one winner."

James became very still. "A battle royal?" He said, voice pure Winter now, totally toneless. "With one winner?"

"Overseen by the company the two humans founded," She nodded. "Mid Bio Informatics."

For one long moment, James stood there, eyes locked on the alien as his mind settled. He let Bucky run through the problem, then Winter and finally James. Each offered their own insight and solution, but all asked the same question. "Are you involved? With this battle?" his voice had a noticeable Russian slant now, breaking through the toneless words from earlier.

"No. I escaped from MBI's care long before my peers and juniors were exposed to the conditioning." She said with absolute certainty.

Nodding, he turned suddenly, heading toward the door with speed. His hand ducked into the folds of his jacket only to produce his handgun, pulling back the slide to place a round in the chamber. The safety turned off with a click.

"I am not getting involved with this," He said over his shoulder to the alien, who had rushed out of the kitchen to follow him. "I will be leaving the city, today." He paused, one hand on the door and the other on the gun, turning to look at her. "Will you follow me?"

"I will go wherever you go." Was the replay as she strapped her sword to her thigh.

He turned the knob and both of them stepped into the light.

* * *

 **Well, originally this was intended to be released on Christmas, but I ended up settling for New Years. Disappointing, I know.**

 **Anyway, I found this chapter choppy. I feel like I'm a sort of Frankenstein writer, taking pieces or passages from other (*coughbettercough*) writers and trying to connect them together. I don't know how it worked out, that's up to you fine folk.**

 **Question time:**

 **-Do you think Bucky can regain his memories? Assuming he does, will he ever really be 'Bucky' again?**

 **-Does the inclusion of guns interfere with the story? Most Japanese media has an adversion to gun violence and Sekirei is no exception. Most gun use is marginalized or totally ignored, which I could do here if it becomes a issue, I suppose.**

 **-Did I waste time with character descriptions? If your reading FanFic's, I like to think you know what characters look like without me telling you, due to manga/anime stuffs. But they pad my word count and add atmosphere.**

 **As always, any feedback, praise, hatred, even flaming is appreciated.**

 **Merry Christmas, Happy New Years and...**

 **SEE YOU SOON, SPACE COWBOY.**


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